Rowan Tree and Red Thread

I wrote this on the morning after my brother's wedding.


We all piled into the bus Noora's parents had arranged around 4pm and were driven to the venue, a restaurant in a large wooden building way out in the woods. It was a slow drive, as the road was snow covered and icy. Inside, however, the place was toasty warm, with a large wood fire burning in the fireplace with pops and cracks from the well-seasoned wood. The walls of the main room were covered with brightly coloured hangings created by a well-known Finnish artist (whose name I forget, unfortunately), vivid with reds and golds. Everything was in an exposed pine finish, including the furniture, polished with a pleasant, warm colour.

There were about twenty guests in all and for the ceremony we all formed a semi-circle about the couple as the registrar went through the necessary steps. It was all in Finnish so I've no idea what Eoin swore to do, and there's probably an easy out for an annulment there. I suppose he could get off on the sound mind requirement too. The registrar was swift and the whole process only took minutes. The inevitable camera frenzy followed.

The meal was good, though the carrots were overdone. I had the reindeer steak and it was delicious. A lovely, dark, rich meat with excellent flavour. There was plenty to drink so the cheer was in good supply as we listened to the speeches which were entertaining and for the most part short.

Rowan was very good too. She lasted right up to the 10pm bus and was pretty well behaved for the whole affair. Sam and I took turns watching her, with some pinch hitting from Sally, as Rowan played with the plentiful toys laid on by the caterers. Some thought had obviously gone into the preparations for entertaining children during meals in this place, and Rowan even got to try out her first efforts at water colour painting. We dried the pictures and dutifully packed them for posterity.

Towards the end of the evening we all went outside to try out presents that Danny, a friend of Eoin and Noora's now in Thailand, had sent. The gift was a set of paper hot-air balloons. They were like large (nearly man-height) paper lanterns, with a paraffin candle attached at the base from wire struts. We lit the first candle, with some effort from Eoin and Dave, the best man, who used their lighters to get it going. Once lit the heat from the candle quickly puffed out the paper balloon and it grew restive in their hands. Suddenly, in silence, the balloon rose skyward, gathering speed and climbing higher and higher. Within moments it was a bright orange light in the sky, drifting east with the wind at a couple of hundred feet.

Seeing this the staff of the restaurant were intrigued and the chef appeared with his kitchen blow-torch. No more creme brulees for him, as he knelt down beside the next three balloons and provided some serious firepower to get them going. In short order three more sentinels joined the first, marching east to confuse some poor cold Russian. Their bright fires clearly visible in the fading blue-black of the sky a testament to the first Hiberno-Finnish aeronautical cooperation. Eoin's pal, Joel, managed to keep the last balloon to himself and got it lit on a nearby rise, and it too took its place with the others, climbing to join their procession east. Rowan was entranced, as was I. It was a magical moment watching the balloon lift silently into the air, one by one slipping into the night wind and away on their journey to who knows where.

Then it was time to go. The bus turned up during the flight preparations and waited for us as we gathered our things to leave. Rowan was asleep in my arms in moments. We managed to get off the bus with her still asleep and she snuggled down in her bed easily. Sam and I exchanged an envious look and got ready for bed ourselves.