AMANDA STONE / Lincoln Journal Star | Posted: Sunday, July 31, 2005 7:00 pm
The sun nearly peeks over the horizon. The couple exchange vows. "You may kiss the bride," they hear, just as blazing sunrise joins a sky of brilliant oranges and pinks.
That's how Elisabeth Reinkordt envisioned her wedding as she made black bean burgers Wednesday with fiance Ande White.
"Basically, we planned our wedding on a road trip," Elisabeth said. "We always wanted to do it outside, and we didn't want to do it in the evening when it's too unbearably hot."
They would hold it at sunrise on a Sunday, the one just passed, she and Ande agreed. In the east field of her parent's farm near Denton. Elisabeth had always wanted to get married there.
A Saturday night cookout would replace the rehearsal dinner, also celebrating Ande's 25th birthday. This summer, she and Ande are the same age as her parents when they married, said Elisabeth, 22.
Friends who wanted to could camp out.
"Most people are like ‘Wait, I've got to get up that early? Well, I can do it but I really have to plan my night,'" Ande said.
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Weddin'.
The wooden sign marks the house, also home to the cookout.
There's about 90 people, friends and family from around the globe, many washing down the more than 100 burgers with beer from three kegs.
Lottie Luxton, Elisabeth's aunt from Canada, mingles with friends of the bride and grooms.
"I'm not an early morning riser, so I don't think it's lovely, but for here it fits," she says, "It suits them, so why not be be different? I'll go for that anytime."
Elisabeth leaves at 11 p.m., leaving a third of the guests with Ande and two kegs still full.
Many keep company with Pabst Blue Ribbon late into the night, swirling it in cups decorated with little balloons.
Others hit the bar.
Around 3 a.m. the fields and tents go quiet.
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The campers awake to Ande playing guitar as he walks from tent to tent. About 10 cell phone alarms overcome his music.
It's 5:15 a.m. on a cloudy Sunday morning.
Campers groan, crawling sleepily out of tents and scrambling to get ready. Girls and guys file in and out of the house, taking turns in the bathroom, adjusting ties.
Some brush their teeth with toothpaste and a finger.
Other guests arrive.
At 5:45, people make their way to the east field.
Weddin'
The wooden sign marks the entrance, and they follow a mowed path up a small hill, carefully avoiding the cowpies.
At the top, Elisabeth's brother Alex tries unsuccessfully to stick the archway he decorated the night before in the ground.
It won't stay.
About 70 guests stand in a semi-circle on the grassy hill waiting patiently for the bride. Some look refreshed, others sleepy.
Emily and Claire Madsen, the flower girls, walk around passing out wild flower seeds to throw.
Alex gives up on sticking the arch and recruits Takayuk Hasegawa and Takashi Yasugahira, friends from Tokyo, to hold it for the ceremony.
At 6:10, Elisabeth arrives with her dad in a burnt-orange Porsche. She walks down the grassy path, her dress and hair gently swaying.
Ande watches her walk, wearing her mother's dress, the once-long sleeves cut to cap sleeves, purple wildflower in her hair. She joins him under the friend-supported arch.
A friend reads something he wrote for them. Elisabeth's dad reads from a Bible in German.
Alex and his cousin join Elisabeth's uncle Thomas Bredenberg in front.
"Hello dearly beloved," he says. "I'm uncle Tom."
He plays the guitar and harmonica while the boys play drums. As the song finishes the officiator asks for the rings.
The crowd inches forward as Elisabeth and Ande exchange vows. The sun, rising at 6:25 this morning, is blocked by a cloud.
"With these declarations of love, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiator says.
Ande takes Elisabeth's hands and kisses her. The semi-circle parts as they walk hand in hand down the hill, the sun barely peeking over the clouds.