It is not uncommon to hear of inclement weather hitting an area you had recently traveled through, or maybe vacationed in, and found yourself thinking, “Boy, I'm sure glad that didn't hit while I was there.”

It is not uncommon to hear of inclement weather hitting an area you had recently traveled through, or maybe vacationed in, and found yourself thinking, “Boy, I'm sure glad that didn't hit while I was there.”

My wife, Nancy, and I did just that last Thursday during the midst of a brief, yet torrential, downpour. A quick check of radar indicated that the cell had essentially followed U.S. 36 as it rolled through Hannibal and into Illinois.

While I expressed thankfulness that the rain hadn't caught me blocks from home on one of my post-workday walks, my bride found another reason to give thanks.

“Did it hit Rensselaer?” she asked.

When I confirmed that it had, adding that radar indicated it might have even put down some small hail as it passed over the small community in northern Ralls County, Nancy shook her head.

“I'm sure glad we weren't out there today,” she sighed.

Nancy's thankfulness was rooted in the fact that less than a week earlier, at just about the time the rain hit, we had been celebrating in Rensselaer the marriage of our youngest daughter, Anna, to Nick Louderman.

And while an adjacent community building that had been rented for the post-wedding festivities could have accommodated all the guests in the event of a downpour, a heavy shower during the outdoor ceremony would have definitely put a “damper” on the event.

While I acknowledge that couples get married in July all the time, in the months leading up to the wedding I quietly questioned the wisdom of having the ceremony outside in the late afternoon on a late July day.

I don't know about you, but aside of fireworks, when I think of July I associate it with heat, heat and more heat, plus the occasional thunderstorm that is capable of putting down rainfall in a sufficient amount that even frogs are ready to cry out, “Enough already!”

But my primary concern was a day so unbearably hot it would leave members of the wedding party and guests perspiring, puking or passing out.

Being a confessed weather geek I felt obliged to do some meteorological research to see just what might be in store weather-wise on July 29. I discovered that over the previous decade rain was no guarantee. After precipitation was recorded on that day in four out of five years between 2008 and 2012, it had been dry the last four years.

As for late July heat, while certainly possible – the record high in Hannibal on July 29 is 102 in 1940 – only three times on the previous 10 July 29ths had the high temperature eclipsed 90 – 93 in 2015, 97 in 2011 and 91 in 2010. In fact, weather records revealed that twice in the previous four years the high didn't touch 80 – 74 in 2014 and 78 in 2013.

Ultimately, all my fretting over an outdoor wedding in late July proved to be a waste of energy. In the days leading up to the big day the National Weather Service kept revising downward the projected high for July 29 from the upper 80s to the lower 80s.

As it turned out the prayers of my wife and others were answered as the high only reached 84. Making the ceremony even more pleasant were the presence of some white, puffy clouds, which provided welcome shade as if right on cue.

Later, as Anna and Nick shared their first dance as a married couple, I saw smiles on my daughter's and new son-in-law's faces that just radiated their happiness. It occurred to me as I watched them that it could have been hotter than blazes, with people perspiring, puking or passing out, and it still would have been an absolutely perfect day.

The views expressed in this column are not necessarily those of the Courier-Post.