Cassie wore a strapless Rosa Clara gown—a fitting choice for the laid-back beach affair.

My mother-in-law also found a lovely little floral company, Field and Vase by Stow Greenhouses, and organized all of the flowers for our wedding—dark purple seasonal arrangements from a family-owned farm.

One of my other priorities was finding a photographer who could truly capture the magic of the night and all of its moments. When I came across Lauren Methia’s candid photography work, I knew she was the right fit.

While browsing through the only Brides magazine I bought, I found my perfect dress, too—a Rosa Clara strapless gown that my mom bought for me. It seemed to perfectly epitomize “beach formal,” our dress code for the night. I also let my bridesmaids choose their own dresses within a neutral color scheme. (I didn’t see them until the actual wedding day.)

In a last-minute decision, we also decided to utilize a makeshift plywood platform that would serve as a dance floor in the sand. Eduardo Alves, our DJ for the night, curated a perfect playlist based off our favorite songs—a mix of country, James Taylor classics and dance, plus string quartet songs pre-ceremony.

Then there were the unknowns. After all, an outdoor beach wedding on Cape Cod in September, at the tail end of hurricane season, is a roll of the dice.

Leading up to the wedding, many people asked me what my “Plan B” was. I always told them the same thing: There was no Plan B. There was no rain date. There was no back-up location—even as Hurricane Irma barreled up the East Coast just days before our wedding date. The rain. The wind. The temperature. They were all unknowns. But my family and I decided to choose the unknown for the possibility of extraordinary over ordinary.

The morning of September 16, 2017 was unlike most Cape Cod mornings. There was no foggy haze that slowly burned away as the day went on for a late afternoon clearing. It was simply sunny. When my father and I arrived at CBA just before the 4 p.m. ceremony, we stepped out to brilliant sunshine. When we walked down the aisle (to Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love”), the sky behind us was blue; the temperature even a little warm.

But minutes later, as cocktail hour began on the pavilion, an evening wind blew fog, almost visibly, onto the beach. It came in fast with cool, raw air, and in minutes engulfed the area. The fog sat there, socked in the air, warming it.