It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon at the botanical garden when James ducked under the same greenhouse awning as Charlotte, both sheltering from an unexpected downpour. She was sketching the orchids; he was hopelessly lost looking for the rose pavilion. She pointed the way — and somehow, he never really left.

Three years of shared Sunday markets, pressed flowers, and slow walks through gardens in bloom later, we are ready to say our vows and build something that blooms in all seasons.