Loading...
Loading...
.jpg&w=3200&q=75)
A livestreamed Joshua Tree minimony was how Lorena and Hamilton pulled it off in February 2021 — ten people out in the high desert, and everyone else watching from home on a camera pointed at the altar. They rented a desert property with a copper-roofed turret and a weathered wood ramada, Joshua trees and bare mountains standing off in every direction, and they built the whole day so the family who couldn't travel could still be part of it.
It was a covid-era wedding, and it showed in the small ways — a green mask here, a black one there among the guests up front — but the day itself ran warm and unhurried. They did a first look before the ceremony. They said vows in the open desert. A dog in a red bandana had the run of the place. And the live feed carried all of it out to the people who mattered and couldn't be there.
The morning ran inside the rented desert house while Tanya Marie finished Lorena's hair and makeup. Lorena's gown was strapless lace, fitted through the body, with a long lace veil that would spend most of the afternoon catching the desert wind. Her flowers were the loud, happy kind — pink lilies and pink roses tumbling out with trailing greenery, nothing tidy about the shape of it. A taller version of the same arrangement, lilies and blush roses run through with eucalyptus, stood ready on a copper stand for the ceremony.
Hamilton got into a navy three-piece suit with a light blue tie and a single pink rose at the lapel. Once they were both dressed, they stepped outside for a first look before anyone else arrived — so the family already watching the stream caught the day from that moment on, the desert and the light and the couple together, before the ceremony had even started.
Book a free 30-minute call and tell us the day you’re imagining. We’ve probably planned one like it, and we’d love to help plan yours.
Celene De Miranda officiated in the open desert while the ten guests gathered close and everyone else watched the live feed. The setting did the decorating on its own — Joshua trees scattered across the flat, bare mountains behind, the pale winter light of the high desert coming down hard and bright. Some of the guests up front wore masks, a small green one, a black one, and the vows carried out to the camera and everyone watching from wherever they were.
A wedding this size uses a landscape like this without any fuss. There were no rows to fill and no distance to cross, so the whole group stood in a loose circle in the sand and the ceremony happened among them rather than in front of them. Even the dog turned up for it, a small scruffy one in a red bandana wandering the ground while the words were said.
“Ten people in the sand, everyone else on the stream, and a dog in a red bandana with the run of the desert.”
After the vows came family photos with the ten who had made the trip. Lorena's parents stood in for a run of groupings — her dad in a red tie and sunglasses, her mom's silver hair blowing sideways in the wind — then Hamilton's family, then the sisters, then everyone crowded under the wood ramada with both dogs underfoot. You could see the ease in all of it. This was a group who all knew each other.
Then the photographer took Lorena and Hamilton out into the desert alone. In one shot the wind lifted her long veil clean off her shoulders, straight out behind her like a sail, while Hamilton stood next to her with the little grey dog tucked in one arm, the two of them laughing. The Joshua trees and the mountains ran on and on behind them. February in the high desert has a low, raking light that turns the pale ground warm at the edges, and they moved through it while the family still watching at home saw the day roll toward evening.
The cake sat waiting indoors: two tiers of semi-naked red velvet, the pink of the cake showing through thin white frosting, topped with a single blush orchid and a sprig of eucalyptus, set on a gold stand. Simple, and exactly right for a day this size.
The first dance came at sunset, the light already low and warm across the desert, and toasts followed from the ten people who had come out, a small circle in a very big landscape raising a glass to the couple they had traveled to see married. When the sun finally dropped, the high desert around them went still and cool the way it does after dark, the sky deepening over the Joshua trees. The whole time, the live stream held the door open for everyone who couldn't be in the room — as close as a February in the desert would let them be.