My Approach
This is how the elopement begins to take shape
Some days start before sunrise.
Others begin slow, with coffee and time to settle in.
Sometimes we walk for hours.
Sometimes we walk twenty steps and stay there.
We turn around when storm clouds roll in.
We wait when the light is about to shift.
We stay longer when it feels good, even if the plan said otherwise.
That’s what shapes these days.
We plan with space to breathe.
Room to move, pause, or change direction when it matters.
Some couples want movement all day.
Some want to sit, break bread, and let the conversation wander while the light settles.
Neither is better. Both are real.
This isn’t about how the elopement photographs.
It’s about how it feels to be inside it.
Sometimes that means altitude and exposure.
Other days it means staying close, warm, and unhurried.
Laughing when the wind picks up.
Sitting quietly when the view stops you both.
I’m paying attention.
To the weather.
To the place.
To you.
I’m responding to what’s there instead of forcing what isn’t.
That might mean leaving earlier than planned.
Or later.
It might mean taking a longer route, or abandoning one altogether.
These aren’t interruptions.
They’re part of the experience.
The days that linger longest are rarely the ones that followed a perfect plan.
They’re the ones where you stop checking the time.
Where you stop performing and start being inside the day.
Where the unexpected can happen.
That’s the kind of elopement we shape together.
Days that stretch.
Days that breathe.
Days that feel lived, not performed.
Related reading
→LGBTQ+ Elopements
→ Culturally Inclusive Elopements
→ Accessible Elopements
→ The Weather that Moves Us