A young man applied for a job as a farmhand. When the farmer asked for his qualifications, he said, "I can sleep through a storm." This puzzled the farmer, but he liked the young man so he hired him anyway. A few weeks later, the farmer and his wife were awakened in the night by a violent storm ripping through the valley. They leapt out of bed and called for the new hired hand, but the young man was sleeping so soundly, he wouldn’t wake up. So the farmer and his wife quickly began to check if all was secure around the farm. They found that the shutters of the farmhouse had been securely fastened, and a good supply of logs had been set next to the fireplace. The farmer and his wife then inspected their property. They found that the farm tools had been placed in the storage shed, safe from the elements. They saw that the bales of wheat had been bound and wrapped in tarpaulins. The tractor had been moved into its garage. The barn was locked tight. Even the animals were calm and had plenty of feed. All was well. The farmer then understood the meaning of the young man's words, "I can sleep through a storm." (Author unknown, sourced from Inspire21.com)
This story was shared with me while on a National Outdoor Leadership School course some years ago, atop a peak in the Adirondack mountains. It was the combination of this story and being caught in a massive downpour while all our gear was strewn across the campsite for drying (ironically), that this valuable lesson of what NOLS calls “bomb proofing” camp, was forged into my memory. To this day, I make haste while the weather is fair, because in the blink of an eye those clear skies can disappear, as many New Englanders know. To the storms of lightning and of life, I say bring it on, I’m ready.