Waking up in the middle of night to the sounds of silence and total darkness were my first instinctual indications there was no power. And the cold.....in this house, it is always about the cold. The weight of the world, or at least the weight of 2" of ice followed by 4" of snow, was more than the power lines could bare...so they politely and quickly surrendered.
The ever present hum of the industrial-size heating and air conditioning unit outside my bedroom window was silent. The sounds were missing of the old chicken trucks, grinding their gears as they make their way through the mountain carrying the catchers to their jobs or carrying their catch of the night back to the processing plant. The only sound I heard was the snoring of my overweight Labrador sleeping next to my bed.
I got up to peek out the window and saw nothing but the blackness of a moonless night enveloping everything I had hope to see. And then, despite my flannel pajamas and heavy wool socks, I was shocked into an alertness rarely achieved past midnight by the temperature inside the house, which was below the normal 64 degrees this old house maintains throughout the winter. After calling to report the outage, it was evident the warmest place in the house was under the mound of covers on my bed with Bob the Beagle as my energy-efficient heating pad.
Daylight proved to be the perfect alarm clock. I understand completely the old farmer's philosophy of rising with the sun and going to bed when it sets. There are only so many hours of daylight and like the old farmers, I had many chores to do.
The power had been out long enough that the temperature in the house was colder than the temperature in both refrigerators. So I took all of the perishable food and placed it in baskets outside on the upper deck in the snow.
After warm cans of food heated in the downstairs fireplace, I let the outside dogs run in the snow. We walked the perimeter of the property and down the slick ice/snow covered road, looking for downed trees and power lines. Maggie, the hunter, went out on her own, much deeper into the woods, and soon sent out the battle cry for help from her brothers and sisters in arms. But their agenda was to return as quickly as possible to the blankets inside their houses and dream the special dreams that only dogs know about. So Maggie hunted alone until late in the afternoon, nose to the ground, following each set of tiny footprints through the snow. She came back with nothing, but I doubt that was ever the point.
The thoughts you have when there are no lights, heat, water or electricity are not the same thoughts you have when the news is always running somewhere in the background, or you are a keystroke away from verifying or disqualifying any idea that pops into your head. Or when you chat throughout the day with friends scattered about the country, living different, but similiar lives, and sharing it all together.
During these days, I thought a lot about Mrs. Rogers, my high school English teacher, who bored us to death with endless reading and analyzing of John Greenleaf Whittier's "Snowbound". The poem makes more sense now.
With no access to music, in my mind I played and replayed Justin Timberlake's version of the hauntingly beautiful Leonard Cohen song "Hallelujah", over and over, and it brought me peace each time.
I thought about the message in the old play "Our Town"...to live every moment of every day and to connect with that small group of people who have special meaning in your life. No matter how many times we have seen that play, do we ever really "get it"?
After I finished all of my chores and could no longer find meaningful work to do, I read, A LOT. I read in the daylight and when darkness fell, I read by the light of an old oil lamp. I went through the stack of new books by my bed as I came to them. Unfortunately, the book that I came to after dark was James Patterson's new offering, "I, Alex Cross", about a murderer deep in the rural woods who put the bodies of his victims through an industrial-size wood chipper. Probably not the best choice for a female, alone in the rural woods with no power!
But, I must confess, it wasn't all primitive "roughing it". I did have my Blackberry. While trying to be cognisant of my battery life, I did text and communicate with friends and my husband, who by the way, was enjoying the sun and warm weather of Los Angeles and Las Vegas.....for WORK, of course. My dear friends, who kept offering, sometimes insisting, that I let them attempt the impossible and risk their lives to come and get me. Even though on two different occasions, I was called "stubborn" (and probably worse behind my back!), they did understand my reluctance to leave my house and my dogs.
As the days get longer and the temperature begins to rise, I am sure I will look back on my days on the mountain when the power went out with a little more nostalgia and romance than there probably was while I was actually living it. After all, it has only been a day, and I am already doing it.
But then.......isn't that what we all do with the events of our lives? If only it was all as good as it is in our memories. Turns out, dogs aren't the only ones who dream special dreams!
