It’s an old church est. in 1846, with one of those lovely, creepy old graveyards and tons of stained glass windows. But no center aisle. As I may have mentioned.
It’s not in Center City (a bit disappointing) but right on the outskirts, and therefore, not charging us a billion dollars.
The reception hall is an entirely separate building, with baby blue walls, hardwood floors, and a small stage (but no beachy mural, thanks).
The best part of all is the trees. Yes, lovely, plentiful trees surrounding the whole place, which I’m sure will be brilliant colors in October.
Handing that check to the pastor was another of those “whoa” moments. We have a venue. We’re getting married. Whoa.