Lee St. John, a member of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, is a No.1 Amazon ranked humorous author. Look for her on Facebook, Twitter (@LeeStJohnauthor), and her blog at www.leestjohnauthor.com. Her new release, “SHE’S A KEEPER! Cockamamie Memoirs from a Hot Southern Mess” can be found on Amazon.com.

My 36th wedding anniversary is just around the corner. I read somewhere that couples give a great deal of thought to the day they choose to get married. We certainly did when we were considering the weather but I didn’t take into consideration my wedding anniversary would also be shared in the future, depending on the year, with my husband’s birthday and Mother’s Day. So, some years I don’t have a stand alone Mother’s Day. That stinks.
The article I read also mentioned, “Many engaged couples are more attached to a particular season than a specific day, but some couples will consider any time of year to say, ‘I do.’” It continued, “Weather factors heavily into many couples’ decisions regarding when to get married. According to THE KNOT 2015 Real Weddings Study, 39 percent of the nearly 18,000 U.S. brides and grooms surveyed chose to get married in the months of September, October, or November, three months of the year when the weather tends to be both predictable and pleasant.”
Not me. We chose May. I read in the Farmer’s Almanac for that upcoming year that the second weekend in May continually is the nicest weekend of the month in the south. It stated habitually that weekend was best for farming because of the slightly warmer temps and no showers. It was like getting the green light to a perfect wedding day from a crystal ball. We were elated.
We were having a church wedding with an outdoor reception at my parents’ home on the 30 acres where I grew up. With the almanac making us feel secure, all I had to do was enjoy the pre-wedding parties and just count down the days until my May 1983 wedding. Piece of wedding cake!
All looked clear from California to Georgia as the wedding day approached. We were safe to set up the area outdoors for the band, the tables and chairs for guests would be next, figuring out a place for the wedding couple’s first dance, pictures, etc. and then when the food arrived there would also be an area for it,
No worries of having to think about if the weather turned that all those people would have to come inside and our plans would be soaked. But because in 1983 with just a few Atlanta television stations from which to get weather forecasts, I covered my bases and called the weather man from the national weather service in Georgia to ask his opinion about our local weather. And I called every day for at least two weeks prior. I called so often, we both were on a first name basis. The meteorologist assured me that the coast was clear.
But then the Gulf Coast was not clear.
A squall from the Gulf rumbled into Georgia two days before our nuptials. Mother and I panicked and scrambled to try to solve our problem. In 1983 the rental prop business wasn’t that big especially in our small town. We could borrow tents like the ones seen at large university tailgates, except the ones we had to borrow did not have some university logo on it. We were going to have to get our tents from our family friend and owner of the only funeral home in town. And they would be green, not white. And their business name would be emblazoned on the sides of the tent hems. Which meant that name would be in all my wedding pictures.
I even think one side of the tents read, “We Are The Last To Let You Down.”
A day later, the meteorologist and I spoke again and I was in agony. He calmed my fears and told me that there was no need to worry. The possible storm had moved off in another direction and the next few days were going to be perfect.
And they were.
Note to self: Always trust the FARMER’S ALMANAC.