A colourful Wedding in Le Marche, ITaly

Badia San Vittore & Camerano, Italy

E & F’s wedding in Le Marche was not a calm, minimal, aesthetic-only kind of day. It was full. Full of people. Full of emotion. Full of those moments where you look around and think, “Okay, this is going to stay with me.”

It started quietly. It did not stay quiet.

Getting Ready at Badia San Vittore

The morning began at Badia di San Vittore, surrounded by old stone walls and that very specific pre-wedding energy. You know the one. Excitement mixed with “wait… this is actually happening.”

She got ready at the abbey, friends moving in and out of the room, someone adjusting something, someone else trying not to cry too early in the day. Deep breaths. Little laughs. A few “are you okay?” moments.

Then I drove to his parents’ house.

Completely different vibe.

He got ready in the home he grew up in. Familiar walls. Parents nearby. That quiet focus that happens when it suddenly hits you that today is not just a party. It’s the start of something bigger.

Two separate mornings. Same destination.

Civil Ceremony at the Comune di Camerano

We all headed to the Comune di Camerano for the civil ceremony.

Small room. Close people. No extra noise.

It was simple and honest. The official words were read, hands squeezed tightly, and that first look after the “yes” had weight. The kind that makes you swallow hard behind your camera.

Applause. Hugs. That slightly stunned expression of “we’re actually married.”

And we were only halfway through the day.

Back to the Badia: Tears, Words… and a Saw

After the civil ceremony, we returned to Badia San Vittore for the symbolic ceremony.

If the morning had been composed, this part was emotional chaos in the best way.

There were speeches. Real ones. The kind where people start confidently and then completely lose it halfway through. Long pauses. Shaky voices. Everyone pretending they’re not crying while absolutely crying.

And then, because this group of friends is iconic, they introduced a game.

They brought out a log.

Yes. An actual tree trunk.

And the newlyweds had to saw it together.

If you’ve never seen this tradition, it’s basically symbolic teamwork. Marriage = cooperation. Also marriage = manual labor apparently.

They grabbed the saw. The crowd cheered. There was laughing, a bit of competitive energy, and probably some advice shouted from the sidelines.

Honestly? It was perfect.

From tears to sawing wood in ten minutes. That’s balance.

Couple Portraits in a Barley Field

After all that emotion and unexpected lumberjack activity, we stepped away.

Just the two of them. Just the hills of Le Marche.

We found a beautiful barley field. Golden, soft, moving in the wind like it was part of the plan all along.

No complicated posing. No dramatic instructions. They were already emotionally open from the ceremony. They just needed a second to breathe.

They walked. They laughed. They leaned into each other.

You could feel the shift. The intensity of the day settling into something calmer.

Sometimes the best portraits happen after the chaos.

Back to the Badia Before Night Fell

After the barley field, we drove back just in time.

The sky was starting to shift. That moment between golden hour and evening when everything slows down for a second. We arrived at the Badia just before darkness settled in.

And it was enchanting.

The abbey looked completely different now. Warmer. Softer. Almost glowing. The tables were set beautifully, perfectly in theme with the colours of the day. Everything felt curated but not stiff. Elegant without trying too hard.

You could feel that little wave of relief that comes after the portraits. The big emotional moments were behind them. The sun was going down. It was time to just enjoy.

Aperitivo turned into dinner.

Dinner turned into stories.

And just when everyone thought, “Okay, maybe we should slow down,” someone said the magic word:

Cake.

Suddenly everyone was alert again.

Chairs moved. People gathered closer. Someone made a joke. Someone pretended not to cry (again). After a whole day of emotions, vows, sawing logs, and golden fields, we ended exactly where we should have — around a table, together.

It was already dark outside. The Badia looked almost unreal in the evening light, glowing softly while everyone leaned in for that final sweet moment.

No big production. No dramatic choreography.

Just two people cutting their cake surrounded by the same friends and family who had cheered, cried, and probably shouted instructions during the log-sawing earlier.

It felt relaxed. It felt earned.

A long day. A lot of tears. A lot of laughter.