The weather is one of those outside influences, completely out of anyone's control, which can have the most direct effect on your life.

Take, for instance, the Saturday before last, on May 30. I was at Custer Park with my dog, Boof, enjoying what had to be the most perfect of summer days. Not a cloud in the sky, warm temperatures, a cool breeze. Just beautiful. And yet my knees were shaking so hard that I thought Iwas going to fall over, and I was having the hardest time breathing. It was so weird.

Other outside influences affecting me that day: A small cluster of my closest family and friends staring at me from their rows of chairs, a wedding party surrounding me on the stage there, and the most beautiful woman I've ever known, my sweet Annette, dressed in a flowing white gown, looking intently into my eyes as Inervously gasped my way through my wedding vows.

Ours was an outdoor wedding, which meant that we spent the six previous months of our lives obsessing over the weather forecast of one very specific day. And that's just no way to live.

What I learned from that day - among countless other lessons on how to best organize a wedding that I will ideally have absolutely no use for in the remainder of my life - is that planning an outdoor wedding is a pretty great metaphor for planning a marriage.

You can start with the best of intentions. You can hope for clear skies and beautiful surroundings. Yet there's always the chance that rain will fall (or even snow in June), road construction crews will be working on the street next to your ceremony, interlopers with dogs will come play Frisbee in the park you spent $100 to rent for the day, or giant spiders will descend from the trees and carry off small children.

Likewise, your marriage can't always be a beautiful day in the park. Gray skies, tough times and bloodthirsty spiders will come to get you, some day.

Outdoor weddings are just a qualified guess. You do the best you can. You hope for the best, but also prepare for the worst. You pick a day when you think the weather will be clear, but you rent enough scuba suits for all your invited guests as a Plan B, in case of flash flooding.

Marriage - and I feel qualified to tell you this as a two-week veteran of the institution - is the same way. You find that special person, the one who sends your heart racing every time you see them, who keeps you laughing every day you're together, who manages to works in references to "The Simpsons,"your favorite song by The National and a quote by the Joker from the latest "Batman"movie into her vows (my wife is awesome, by the way), and you make a qualified guess.

You estimate that this person is the one who will stand next to you for the rest of your life, no matter what natural occurrence rain, high winds, funnel clouds, snow, tsunamis or arachnid invasions may come. And you promise them that you intend to always be standing there, too.

Knees shaking in your scuba suit, but still standing.

(This is the first installment of columnist Kelly Hagen's own "Lord of the Rings trilogy." He can be reached at 250-8259 or kelly.hagen@bismarcktribune.com.)