I thought i’d do something … a little different…. This is what an Engagement shoot looks like after I import it onto the computer, unculled, untouched, unedited *gulp*
Daryl and Anne were married on her parents chestnut farm in the Victorian alpine town of Bright, amougnst the trees her family planeted 25 years ago… and were Daryl had proposed just 3 months earlier…
For those of you who don’t know the tale of the Darylson’s it is summed up rather nicely in a poem written for by Georgia Powick (maid-of-honour and literary genius):
One day a rooster met a hen,
he counted slowly up to ten
Then, as they strolled beneath the trees,
He promptly folded at the knees
With chestnuts hanging overhead
He asked if her if they should be wed
And with a cluck of boudless glee
I do believe she did agree!
The short story aside, they met late in 2008 at a dinner party with mutual friends , Kirsty and Aaron, at Maha restaurant in Melbourne. There were Sheesha pipes and lots of doctors talking shop. A conversation sparked between Anne and Daryl about travelling adventures invovling cycling, boarding and skiing. That night Anne darted off in the lane way with little to do… there were strict criteria she joked, a credible suitor really should live in the same postcode, 3054. It seemed to make perfect sense.
Six months later, Daryl had moved northside from his share house to bunk in with Kirsty and Aaron. Not only did he now live in postcode 3054 but also just one block from Anne’s house.
After a failed attempt at setting them up one afternoon at the pub (one broken nose, several stitches, a busted up arm and head injury later) a Friday night dinner follwed with feasting and debauchery ending up at Mr Wilkinson in Brunswick. This set the scene for their romance. Daryl left a short message on Anne’s phone whilst she was working in Albury informing her a date should be arranged. He got a haircut, she got a haircut, she was late for their date, they walked to Flor for dinner. Many dinners at Flor followed and adventures were planned. The rest, my friends, is history….