Garlands of baby's breath, tiny white lights and French ribbon are long gone from the rustic posts and beams. Grass on the ramp has turned brown, the trees are bare and there's a chill in the air. But there are warm memories of a special day for a couple who say:

"If you can successfully plan your wedding together and have a good time, it's good training for your life together."

Mil and Lance are practical and wanted to leave nothing of their day to chance. They're also creative and wanted more than a cookie-cutter ceremony punched out by wedding professionals. So they did it all themselves.

They developed a master plan of what Lance calls "dates and deliverables" and sat down every Sunday night to chart their progress and to parcel out the next week's chores. Still in love after more than 70 such Sunday sessions, they were married in an outdoor ceremony on a warm clear day in early spring.

Both Lance and Mil are thirty-something professionals in New York City. She was born in Washington, D.C., grew up in Philadelphia and went to Quaker schools and summer camp. After college she worked for a time in Paris. He was raised as a Southern Baptist not far from Frankfort, Ky. He spent a lot of time on his grandparents' farm, and between college and grad school went to the Philippines with the Peace Corps. If there was a theme to the wedding, it was an informality and the blending of their beliefs.

"We wanted the event to be about the marriage, not about the wedding," Lance says. "And to have it reflect what it is that you want to create in your life together. With us it was friendship, our social commitments, community."

The ceremony with far-flung friends and relatives closer by took place in picturesque Bucks County, Pa., on a grass-covered cattle ramp leading to a big red barn and the reception.

When they first looked at the barn as a possible venue, Mil said, "It was a moment of `Wow, it really could be perfect.' All of the Kentuckians would love it because it wouldn't be a huge psychic shift, friends from the city could enjoy a weekend in the country, and for those from abroad it would offer a bucolic American setting."

Every detail for the day had meaning. The small-batch bourbon (Kentucky), the Champagne (France). Her long, Champagne-color sheath was complemented with a light wrap made by her friend the dressmaker. His suit, Mil says, "was made by a designer in Brooklyn we wanted to support. His shirt was made by a Nigerian we wanted to support."

In recalling all of the hideous bridemaid's dresses she never wore again, Mil asked the attendants to express their own good taste. No two dressed alike, and all seemed confident and comfortable and lent a certain sophistication to the scene.

Nor were the women lined up behind the bride and the men aligned with the groom. Lance's sister was one of his attendants. Mil's brother was one of hers. "It just seemed the most natural thing in the world to have the people nearest and dearest to each of us `on our side.' "

Beyond the bridal party, many guests and family members had special roles in what Lance calls "a participatory wedding." Mil's mom did the flowers, from the bridal bouquet to the table arrangements; an aunt from her extended family was the jeweler who designed the rings. And friends contributed their talents as wedding gifts: the deejay, a graphics design director, a producer, a professional musician among them.

The man who married them had worked with Mil at Habitat for Humanity and was chosen for his convictions more than his religion. After the wedding vows were read, guests were invited to stand up and speak to or about the couple, Quaker-style. Their early fears that no one would rise were unfounded. It seemed as though everyone wanted a chance.

"That whole process of having the community be the ultimate authority that affirms your union is a tradition we really have a lot of respect for," Lance says.

The Quaker aspect provided one of the day's highlights for Lance. The other was when he and Mil repeated the vows they had written. "I thought that moment was magical ... We wanted the vows to reflect what it was we were creating as a couple in the marriage. When we actually got to the moment when we stood and said them to each other, it felt like the beginning of something."