A Late-September Wedding in the Orchard: M and J

M and J found us in February, with an unusual brief: "twenty people, one tree and no matching anything." We took that as the best opening line we'd heard all year.

They married on the last Saturday of September, in an old family orchard with a single long table set between the trees. The apples were on the branches. The grass hadn't yet been cut. By four o'clock, the light was the colour of weak honey.

The palette

M wanted burgundy and cream, with rust and bone to warm it. J asked only that it should look like the orchard, not like a magazine. We took that seriously. Almost everything came from within a short drive of the studio, and quite a lot of it from one grower who let us walk her rows two days before.

The flowers

Here's the full list, in the order they appeared on the day.

The bouquet. A loose, gathered shape, built by hand the evening before.

• Dahlias in deep burgundy and cream

• Scabiosa seedheads

• Garden roses, a pale blush

• Amaranth, trailing

• A few stems of cosmos

• Sprigs of rosemary, because M asked

The boutonniere for J. One small cream dahlia, a sprig of rosemary, a single berry branch, tied with a linen thread.

The ceremony. No arch. J's father had suggested, gently, that the oldest apple tree might do, and we agreed. We hung a loose garland of cedar, dried grasses and burgundy dahlias from one low branch and left everything else alone.

The long table. Twelve simple glass jars, mixed heights, set in a line down the middle:

• Dahlias in every shade from oxblood to cream

• Chrysanthemums, single-flowered

• Seedheads and dried grasses

• Crab apple branches, with the small red fruit still on

• Foliage from the orchard itself

The details. Candles in repurposed jam jars, folded napkins with a sprig of thyme, and a small bunch of dried lavender tied to every chair.

What I'd do again

I'd trust the tree. I'd resist adding anything to it. There's a point in many weddings where more starts to feel like less, and the discipline is in knowing when to put the scissors down. The oldest apple tree knew more than I did.

I'd also take every one of the crab apples. They looked better as the afternoon wore on.

After

The bouquet is hanging upside down in our pantry to dry, and in a couple of weeks it will go back to M in a linen sleeve. The table jars went home with guests. The cedar garland, which had a surprising amount of life in it, went in the compost, where the whole thing began.

If you'd like to read how we plan a day like this one, begin with choosing flowers by month, and when you're ready to talk, the studio is a short note away. We take twelve weddings a year, and we'd love to hear about yours.