There is a special place in my heart reserved for the brides who forsake fancy ballrooms and ornate churches, and instead choose to get married in the humble, American backyard. Maybe it’s because I was one of those brides, or maybe it’s because I just love shooting wedding ceremonies barefoot (which I am guaranteed to do whenever grass is underfoot).

There is something about the backyard. It’s the setting of so many memories: games of hide and seek as children, late night bonfires, Fourth of July cookouts, and now, more and more, the wedding. It’s hard for me to take two steps in my backyard without being hit with nostalgia for my childhood, when my backyard belonged to my grandparents, and I spent hours splashing in their pool with my cousins, and I can’t look at the pine tree in our yard without remembering the day I stood under it to say I do.

Now, Jenny and Steve are a part of the club. When they go home to visit Jenny’s mother’s house, they’ll get to walk past the place where they said I do. They’ll get to feel the grass under their toes, the same grass they danced on. And, they’ll get to look out on the yard, and remember eating dinner with their loved ones on their best day ever, their wedding, which was lovingly and painstakingly handmade by their friends and family. From the dress sewn by a bridesmaid, to the flowers arranged by Jenny’s mother, this wedding was made just for them, by the people that love them most.

Jenny and Steve, welcome to the club.