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The truth is in the trees it seems.

When my siblings and I were little, our dad — the late Bob Kaiser — gave us little tidbits of wisdom. One was to look at the trees for signs of an impending storm.

“When leaves show their undersides, be very sure rain betides,” goes the old wives’ tale.

The Farmers’ Almanac calls this weather folklore. Coming from a time without science to predict the weather, folks relied on their senses and the power of observation passed down and down from generation to generation, ultimately relying on each other.

And it works — dad was right. Whenever I saw the leaves turning inside out, I dropped my tennis racket, grabbed my Free Spirit bicycle and headed for home, pedaling as fast I could. Getting caught in thunder, lightning and strong gales of wind have been some of the most frightening, motivating experiences of my youth, nearly causing me to wreck getting home.  

In this case, it seems the science also backs up the claim. The leaves of deciduous trees, like maples and poplars, do often turn upward before heavy rain, the Farmer’s Almanac reads. The leaves react to the sudden increase in humidity causing those with soft stems to become limp in response to the change, allowing the wind to flip them over.

But with the modern reliance on weather reports, some of those keen observations have gone by the wayside. The buildup in the media, for most, was larger than Friday morning’s storm — thank goodness.

And while the damage was limited in this area, except for a few very sad and tragic cases, we were prepared. Town officials creatively reacted with limited resources and shelters, and the usual lineup of reliable utility truckdrivers waited to deploy and help with power outages.

Another great man once said it is in the nature of humans to face challenges. In 1930, a fellow Buckeye Neil Armstrong was born. He became the first person to set foot on the moon in July of 1969, spending eight days, 14 hours and 30 seconds in space.

“I think we’re going to the moon because it’s in the nature of the human being to face challenges,” Armstrong said during the Apollo mission press conference. “It’s by the nature of his deep inner soul…we’re required to do these things just as salmon swim upstream.”

And the willingness to explore vast continents doesn’t just come from humans. My little cat Rudy survived long enough for his discovery under a tree during a blustery thunderstorm where he was crying and crying, barely audible above the roar. To him, the vast openness of the Enfield prairie must have seemed impossible to conquer with his tiny legs, but he persevered.

The nature of his inner soul kept him swimming upstream, unaware of his smallness. Had he not been alone, he may have missed a reason to become extraordinary, overcoming any doubts and dark imaginings to live a happy life.

And so we go.

“With every mistake, we must surely be learning,” the great, late and beautiful poet George Harrison wrote.

Keeping the faith; and that is all.

Published in The Herald