Photo Prompt 6; calling all photographers

Are you a photographer? Are you not really a photographer but happened to take a good photo one time? Do you want to see your photo on this blog? Are you curious about what I’d write to go with it? Are you annoyed by this line of questioning yet? 😉

If you answered “yes” to at least one of these questions (and if that one is the third) then today is your lucky day! Email your photo to stefawrites@gmail.com and I’ll see if it gets my creative juices flowing. If I want to use it for a future photo prompt, I’ll let you know and of course you’ll get the mother of all shout-outs on the post itself and wherever I share online. If I don’t want to use it, I’ll let you know and delete right away. (I’d never use another person’s work without giving him/her credit or getting his/her consent. And to be clear, unless I give credit otherwise, the photos – not book covers/screen grabs/movie posters/etc. – were taken by me.) I look forward to your submissions. 🙂

Marfa, Texas. May 2009.

Picnic tables dotted the lawn like freckles on a sun-kissed cheek. Strands of lights twinkled in the trees, but the warmest glow came from the candles melting like ice cream cones on the tables. A trio strummed on a wooden platform, the bassist plucking time on a shiny upright. Dozens of pairs of boots stamped a dance floor into the dirt in front of the little stage.

They invited everyone they knew, and just about everyone came. For a long time it seemed like neither of them would find someone, and now everyone was thrilled to help celebrate their engagement.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “We’re so happy you could make it.”

“There won’t be a big ceremony, so this is about it,” she added. “It means the world to us that you could be here.”

They paused to let the kids race by, brandishing bubble wands that left an iridescent trail in their wake.

“I think everyone knows everyone by now,” he went on, “but here’s someone you haven’t met.” He motioned for a middle-aged man in a gray suit to join them at the front. “This is the judge who is going to marry us.”

“And, since you’re all here…” she trailed off.

Their families gasped; their friends cheered.

He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

She took it. “Let’s do it.”

They turned to face the judge.

“Dearly beloved…”

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