This is NOT the kind of wedding where you sit politely in rows and wait for cake. This is the kind where Private Property turns into a one-night festival—fires going, food piled high, music carrying across the water, and a crowd full of people we love most. We’re doing it our way—casual, meaningful, and borderline under-supervised. We’ll laugh, eat, dance, and probably wander into some questionable decisions. And while we’re keeping the details close to the chest, just know there’s more happening than we’re saying here. (The best parts won’t be posted online—you have to be there to get them.) There’s no velvet rope, no stuffy dress code, no “by invitation only” vibe. If you hear about it, you’re invited. Tell your friends or bring a date. If you bring a carload of extra people, we’ll just hand them plates. The only RSVPs we’re collecting are from the folks we’ve directly invited (and their kids), so our core circle is covered. Everyone else? Just roll in ready to ea,t and for whatever unfolds. Come for the food. Stay for the firelight and the unknown. If you’ve ever said, “We really should catch up,” this is your shot. No excuses. No rain checks. Just a once-in-a-lifetime party disguised as a wedding. Leave before someone lights something questionable. Or don't. We're not the boss of you. Save the date. Show up. Celebrate like you mean it.

Vibes: Controlled chaos dressed up in string lights. Vintage chandeliers in trees. Rugs that scream “not waterproof.” Enough lanterns to make the FAA nervous. It’s giving “Pinterest board hijacked by a raccoon with aesthetic taste.” Food: Yes, there will be actual food. A full-blown rotisserie setup is happening for reasons we no longer question. Grazing boards stacked like edible altars. Too many sweets on standby. If you leave hungry, that’s between you and your poor life choices. Fire: There will be fire. Whether it’s in the pit, a candle, or someone “just trying something,” we don’t know yet. Just know that it’s happening. Probably on purpose. Maybe not. Seating: We’ve got it, and I mean all of it. Entertainment: Hookah. Games. Proformances, possibly a guitar. Probably someone yelling, “You HAVE to hear this song!” Movie screen for later if things wind down—or up. Who knows. Games: Axe throwing, cornhole, lawn bowling, etc., and whatever someone makes up on the spot. Winning means nothing. Cheating is encouraged. Trash talk is mandatory. Dress Code: Whatever. Seriously. We’ll be in a field with lanterns and music. If you show up in a ballgown, we’ll clap. If you show up in pajamas, we will also clap. Just maybe don’t wear white. Or do. Again, we’re not your mom. Speeches: None. Unless the spirits move you—and by spirits, we mean liquor. In which case, you’ll be gently escorted away from the fire. Exit Strategy: Leave whenever you want, but if you ghost without grabbing dessert, that’s on you. It’s a party. It’s a wedding. It’s a fever dream of grilled meat, string lights, and pure chaos. Come ready. Come weird. Come knowing we’re just happy to have you there.