Cheryl and Sam
What a lovely wedding, May 2024 in Maine. The weather held up beautifully and we couldn’t have asked for a better day to celebrate these two.
I first met Cheryl and Sam at a coffee shop in Portland last fall. They told me about their vision for the day: intimate, relaxed, with the ocean always in view. No stiff poses, no forced smiles. Just the two of them, their closest friends and family, and the rugged Maine coastline they’d fallen in love with years ago.
Getting ready
The morning started slow. Cheryl and her bridesmaids took over the entire top floor of the inn, music playing, champagne flowing. There’s something special about those quiet moments before everything begins. The nervous laughter, the final adjustments to the dress, the way time seems to stretch and compress all at once.
Sam, meanwhile, was surprisingly calm. He spent the morning with his brother and father, sharing a whiskey and going over his vows one last time. When I asked if he was nervous, he just smiled and said he’d been ready for this day since their second date.
The ceremony
The garden at Jordan Pond House was the perfect backdrop. Sixty wooden chairs arranged in a gentle arc, wildflowers lining the aisle, and beyond it all, the pond stretching out toward the mountains.
Sam’s grandmother flew in from Portugal just for the occasion. She’s 87 and hadn’t been on a plane in over a decade, but she insisted. When she stood up to read her blessing, the same one she’d read at Sam’s parents’ wedding thirty years ago, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
Cheryl’s vows were funny and heartfelt. She talked about how Sam still can’t make coffee properly, how he sings off-key in the shower, how he’s the first person she wants to tell when anything happens, good or bad. Sam’s vows were shorter but hit just as hard. He promised to always be her home.
The reception
Dinner was served under string lights as the sun went down over the harbor. Long wooden tables, mismatched vintage chairs, and centerpieces made from local wildflowers and herbs from Cheryl’s mother’s garden.
The lobster rolls were a hit, obviously. This is Maine, after all. But the real star was the blueberry pie, baked by Sam’s aunt using a recipe that’s been in their family for four generations. She made twelve of them, and by the end of the night, not a single slice remained.
The speeches went long, as they always do at weddings where people actually like each other. Cheryl’s college roommate told the story of how Cheryl came home from that second date and announced she’d met the person she was going to marry. Everyone laughed. Cheryl turned bright red. Sam just reached over and held her hand.
The dancing
The first dance was to Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” They’d considered something more modern, Cheryl told me, but this song had been playing the night Sam proposed, on a beach not far from here, and it felt right.
After that, the dance floor never emptied. Sam’s father, who apparently hadn’t danced in twenty years, was out there until midnight. The kids ran around with glow sticks. The band played three encores.
A final note
Thank you both for letting us be part of your day. In fifteen years of shooting weddings, I’ve learned that the best ones aren’t about perfection. They’re about presence. About people showing up fully for each other. About small moments that become the stories you tell for the rest of your lives.
Cheryl and Sam, your wedding was full of those moments. Here’s to many more adventures together.