Chilly Sunday
Our first winter storm without a wood stove since 1979! Actually, our new home has a small wood stove – we just don’t have firewood for it yet. As the temperature in the house started to drop Sunday, I stood in front of the sad cold little stove and began formulating a plan for how my husband and I would stay warm during the night. He was napping on the couch all wrapped up in a blanket while I quietly pondered our chances of survival.
I could walk down the street and ask Herb for an armload of wood, but we have not tried the stove and there are branches that need clearing away from the roof and the stove is so tiny it likely would not accommodate the length of Herb’s firewood and I am not sure Jerry would feel good about asking for it and I AM sure he would rather I not wake him to discuss his plan for what we will do if the electricity doesn’t come back on before bedtime.
We could sleep in all our clothes, coats and blankets piled up. We’re campers, we can figure out how to stay warm.
The second problem was our evening meal. I pulled out a chilled baked potato with the thought that though I could not cook I could at least warm pre-cooked food in the microwave. When I rubbed my forehead to facilitate clearer thinking I realized that would require electricity as well, ahem. I found the slab of left-over venison steak and cut it up into tiny pieces because it was difficult to chew.
I had kept one oil lamp from our move and a box full of candles. I found the flashlight and matches and laid these things out on the counter.
All during our “no electricity” hours I felt I was walking in a shadow of the earthquake/tsunami victims in Japan and found myself thinking and praying about them almost hourly. Many of them would have loved to share my cold potato and tough steak, and I would have loved to offer it—along with my friendship and warm blankets.
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I could walk down the street and ask Herb for an armload of wood, but we have not tried the stove and there are branches that need clearing away from the roof and the stove is so tiny it likely would not accommodate the length of Herb’s firewood and I am not sure Jerry would feel good about asking for it and I AM sure he would rather I not wake him to discuss his plan for what we will do if the electricity doesn’t come back on before bedtime.
We could sleep in all our clothes, coats and blankets piled up. We’re campers, we can figure out how to stay warm.
The second problem was our evening meal. I pulled out a chilled baked potato with the thought that though I could not cook I could at least warm pre-cooked food in the microwave. When I rubbed my forehead to facilitate clearer thinking I realized that would require electricity as well, ahem. I found the slab of left-over venison steak and cut it up into tiny pieces because it was difficult to chew.
I had kept one oil lamp from our move and a box full of candles. I found the flashlight and matches and laid these things out on the counter.
All during our “no electricity” hours I felt I was walking in a shadow of the earthquake/tsunami victims in Japan and found myself thinking and praying about them almost hourly. Many of them would have loved to share my cold potato and tough steak, and I would have loved to offer it—along with my friendship and warm blankets.
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