The weather on our day is looking suspiciously perfect (knocking on wood, crossing fingers, throwing salt over our shoulders…) with a high of 60-65°. You’ll be comfy during the ceremony, and then the sun will set and it will suddenly feel like we planned a winter wedding. Bring a jacket please, future you will be grateful! Also, in honor of Soldier Hollow, we’d love to invite any active or retired military guests to wear their dress uniforms. Please do; someone needs to bring a little extra intimidation to the dance floor. We seriously cannot wait to celebrate with you all in just a few weeks. Get ready for love, laughs, and at least one person ignoring the jacket advice (we will have a spare tablecloth for you). Please reach out if we can help you in any way!

We met in college, in the echoing halls of music school where the lighting is bad, the practice rooms are haunted, and everyone’s teetering on the edge of a caffeine-induced emotional breakthrough. We were just two string players trying to survive: Kat on violin, elegant, precise and full of Shostakovich references; Zach on viola, brooding and mysterious in a “yes, it’s bigger than a violin, no, it’s not a cello” kind of way. We ran into each other constantly, because apparently fate moonlighted as our ensemble scheduler. Eventually, we were thrown into a string quintet together where we bonded quickly, first over mutual respect over intonation, then over family, then over obscure hobbies and emotional unraveling between rehearsals. There were long talks, spontaneous fits of laughter, existential spirals about Bach, and the subtle, growing feeling that maybe… just maybe… we were becoming something more. Then came The Flight™, our first date. Yes. Flight. Not in the metaphorical sense like butterflies or sparks or whatever, but an actual airplane, because Zach was already a pilot and apparently believed in setting the bar at outer atmosphere. Straight out of a Hallmark holiday special, we flew around campus at sunset, and our souls cracked open and said, "Oh, it's you. Finally." And then (naturally) Kat said, "That's fun. I'll do it too". Fast forward a few plot twists: now we are both pilots. Zach is at Delta and Kat teaches people how not to crash, but don’t be fooled. The road (or rather, the runway) wasn’t smooth. Zach taught Kat how to fly, and it was... a process. There were tears. There were screams. At one point, Zach may have yelled “RIGHT RUDDER, RIGHT RUDDER!!” so loudly it echoed across state lines. Teaching your significant other to fly is a special kind of trust exercise, a mix of love, panic, and wondering if the FAA will ever come after you. But we made it, and now we soar- literally and metaphorically-side by side, flying through life, occasionally correcting each other's airspeed and intonation. But here's the truth behind the chaos; we didn’t fall in love just because we liked the same things. We fell in love because when we looked at each other, we didn’t just see a person, we saw home. A rare, quiet kind of recognition. A soul-level “yes", the kind that echoes for a lifetime. And now, we’re taking the ultimate leap together, with hearts on fire, preflight checklists in one hand and instruments in the other. And we’re inviting you to witness it. Join us on April 25th as we celebrate this gloriously chaotic, string-and-wing-fueled love story. There will be laughter, music, dancing, and possibly a dramatic reading of our favorite FAA regulations or a duet (just kidding… unless?). We can't wait to celebrate with you!