I LOVE IT when the power goes out. It's so quiet! The moment that electric nerve-wrap in the walls goes *blip*... it's just so peaceful.
It's so lovely and quiet.
It's like your day winds down to a graceful stop, and now you have all the time in the world to do word puzzles and learn new embroidery stitches.
Well... except for carrying buckets of snow inside to heat up for bathing and washing dishes. There's the backbreaking physical labor part. Except for that, it's all good and no bad.
I love using candles! Candles are so romantic and friendly. You get a little warmth and personality along with your light. I wouldn't let the kids take any to their rooms, though. Poor things, they had to use cold, cheerless battery lights because of their nervous mother. Oh well. Go to bed.
Of course you have "all the time in the world"... for a while. Dark is going to come and nothing can stop it. I love that, too. There's an elemental quality, a more direct connection between work and life. If you get water in, you'll have a bathie tonight. If you get a fire going you'll be warm tonight. Otherwise you'll be sitting in the dark wishing the power would come back.
I don't wish the power would come back. It's so lovely to go to sleep in a warm little house, when it's utterly quiet inside and outside!
And then, there's the dawn. When you've slept in utter darkness, it's SO GREAT when it gets light outside. Yay! It's Day! How often do we really appreciate how wonderful dawn is? There's not much poetry written to the dawn any more. Most of the time we sleep right through it.
DH made me call the power company like five times a day asking for estimates. According to the recording, the estimate is: "We have 47 separate outages, and here's a list of locations that are without power. After you listen to the whole list, please appreciate that we are literally stringing up lines and then before we can restore service another tree falls. We have crews coming from other states to help us. So sit tight and shut up. If there's anything else you want, press 1 to talk to a representative."
The power came back on the first day, then went off again an hour later. I was made to call to make sure the power company realized it had happened. The nice lady apologized for my inconvenience.
I said, "Oh, don't worry, I actually love it when the power's out."
She said, "Oh, I do, too! It's so quiet!"
DH said we'd probably get bumped to the bottom of the list now that I told them we didn't want it anyway.
(But they supply us with power because we pay for it by the kwh, not just because we want it.)
The power came back on just a few hours later, then went off again in the evening. Yay! If it goes off at six, it'll probably be off all night.
And that was before the big freeze! After piles of beautiful fluffy snow, we went out and stomped pathways around, went sledding, cleaned up the remains of the canopy carport that collapsed (on top of the mower and rototiller, which I couldn't get out; they'll have to wait 'til it thaws) and then we had a little bit of rain, then a deep freeze, then some more wet. Then the wind started blowing. No surprise that trees were flopping over right and left.
It looked like a battle zone out there with all the big fir branches all over the yard, and you could still hear them falling. There'd be a sound like a shot, then a cascade, then a big whump. That sound was coming at regular intervals from all sides. In case of the sound coming from directly above, I put on DH's hard hat before I went into the woods. It caused him amusement. Laugh your guts out. It's better than a tree limb through the skull.
Day 1 and Day 2:
DH says it was "at least a foot and a half" of snow. As this ruler proves.
Day 3:
For our last big snowstorm a few years back, the power was out for six days. After six days, one gets used to it. I had to do laundry by hand. DH said we could run down to the laundromat-- but pffffhooey on that! Laundromats are as gross as motels. Who wants their laundry in the same machines as who knows what who else has been stuffing in there before? Not me. Anyway it's useful and educational to experience how our grandmothers did the laundry out on the prairie, having to haul the water in buckets. Everybody should do that once in their lifetime.
But after six days, I REALLY started to miss my email. Checking it at the library just isn't the same.
The high point was meeting a group of homeschool mothers, who stood in a circle comparing notes about how long their power had been out. They asked when mine came back on.
"Still isn't."
They all turned and looked at me for a long moment. One said, "But you appear to be clean and happy!"
Ummmm. Yes. Correct. Electricity is not necessary either for cleanliness or happiness.
Some of them talked about the generators they'd bought for future such occasions, and recommended one for me. I said, "But the problem with that is that you're still dependent on the grid. The generator only helps as long as there's gasoline available."
At that point I lost them. There were uncomfortable looks. Rather than anybody saying, "No, disasters only happen to other people in other places, and we don't appreciate you talking like it might ever happen to us," they simply remembered other things they had to do and dispersed.
Oh, well.
