If Jane Austen were to describe a gorgeous European wedding venue nestled in the unlikely plains of Iowa, she might write something like this:

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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a person in want of a most romantic wedding must surely rejoice upon discovering such a place as this — a curious marvel, hidden among the cornfields and modest country roads of Iowa. Here stands an estate so charmingly out of place that one might believe, for a moment, they had awakened in the hills of Tuscany or the gardens of Provence.

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The venue itself  bears a noble air, as though it had been plucked from the pages of some Continental romance and placed here by accident or divine whim. Its arched windows catch the golden light most becomingly, and the courtyard — enclosed by climbing roses and hydrangeas rich with cloud-like blooms — offers a setting fit for poetry, or at the very least, a spirited country dance.

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Guests arrive not with the stiff formality of town society, but with a glow of delight, as though they too have been momentarily transported to another world — one where champagne flows, laughter echoes off weathered stucco, and love, as ever, reigns supreme.

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In short, it is a place where the imagination finds its perfect companion in reality, and where even the most practical of hearts may be forgiven for swooning just a little.