Electricity: Will It Stay or Will It Go?

Michelle called Thursday morning to let me know that the winter storm coming in was expected to reach 18 to 20 inches of snow. Phil won’t be making it home on time on Saturday; how should I prepare for the children and myself?

After a brief phone conference with Phil, in which we discussed me leaving with the children to go elsewhere before the storm began, we decided it would be best to sit tight as long as we can. My biggest concern is if we lose power. In that case, we have a little propane heater (that we wouldn’t burn after we sleep). But I know that I can melt snow in the barn if I need water and the pump isn’t working; I can use flashlights for light at night. And neighbor Butch can rescue us in his tractor if it gets bad.

I spent much of Thursday getting ready. Fill up the water bag so we have enough. Empty and clean extra poop buckets and fill with clean sawdust so I won’t have to go digging for either, should the snow persist on the ground very long. I tried to back the van up to the top of the driveway, but the few inches of crusty snow left over from last week prevented me from being able to leave the land. I had wondered if I was actually trapped here without a viable car; now I know for sure that I was.

I brought the pigs their second bag of feed in two days. Reading through a book on homesteading, I read that pigs need some way to build shelter, and it was like a lightning bolt for me: up until a few weeks back, every paddock the pigs have lived in has had some straw for nesting. Their most recent pen, though, just has a brush pile—and they haven’t been using that. No wonder they’re eating three times the amount of feed they should be: they need to keep their body temperature up!

That was an expensive mistake, but I brought them as much spoiled but not mushy hay as I could find. They enjoyed making a nest, I think, and I feel (a little) less like a horrible farmer. In some ways, I think it’s astounding that any of our animals are still alive. I don’t think we’re caring for any of them quite perfectly, but they keep on living, for which I am grateful.

Bible study was cancelled for the evening, and Denise came to bring me brownies and say hello. (She also picked up my mail—what could fit in the box, that is. Phil went in to the post office last Friday, and since then, I’ve had no mail. From junior high, I used to eagerly await the mailman; I’m amazed at how minor a trial it seems to not get daily postal delivery.)

Denise’s visit was the first adult contact I’ve had since Monday, when Michelle stopped by briefly to say hello. The children were pleased to have someone other than me to impress, too, and the energy level in this trailer soon reached impressive proportions. I don’t think the boys have been outside since last Friday, so a full week in two small rooms without going crazy is impressive. Good for them! (I suppose it’s no worse than sailors, but I’m not sure I’d recommend it to everyone.)

Friday: woke to snow. Snowed all day. Not much more to say.

Well, that’s not wholly true. Butch brought some hay, and set a bale down right in the sheep pen. Then he stopped the tractor and said, “There’s a petition going around the neighborhood to ship you all back to Colorado. [I wondered if our land truly looked that bad compared to everyone else’s. But then he continued.] We never had weather like this until you all showed up.”

He said that if we get 17 inches this storm, it’ll be the most on record.

The power has flickered off five times, but each time it has immediately reset. Every time, my heart flip-flops, but every time, my heart continues.