Long before this became The River Runs Through, when it was simply twenty-nine acres, an old farmhouse, and a dream, I had already decided this was going to be a place where people gathered.

Some people dream about gardens.

Some dream about horses.

Apparently, I dreamed about weddings.

I've always been fascinated by them.

The dresses.

The flowers.

The invitations.

The table settings.

The old barns transformed into magical reception spaces.

The traditions.

The symbolism.

The promises.

That's a rather long list, which probably tells you two things.