This summer Dylan and I are getting married at the unbelievable home of his cousin-twice-removed (his Grandmother's cousin), Ann. Her house, in northern New Hampshire, right on the Maine border, is a 19th century federal-style with all of the 19th century fixings. No indoor plumbing - there's an outhouse, chamber pots for the night, a water pump in the kitchen, a well in the side yard. Baths can be taken in an aluminum tub in the barn by lugging giant pots of water heated on the stove out from the kitchen. We've been visiting any weekend we can spare this summer, helping Ann with yard work and barn organization. When we finally arrive after the trip (one hour by subway to Grand Central, 2 hours by Metro North to New Haven, 4.5 - 5 hours by car to New Hampshire) it feels like all of the troubles we've left behind never could have mattered that much in the first place. All that matters at Ann's house are cool cross-breezes at night, a troupe of bull frogs croaking to the west, a cold moxie after some hard work, and mugs of warm milk and honey before climbing up the creaky staircase to bed. There's no way I could possibly explain how magical a place it is, but here is my attempt to give a hint of what being there feels like through photos.