A post for Circling the Story
Mid-way between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, an ice storm knocks out our power.
With an unseasonably warm season, this blast of icy weather has reminded me that we live in the Midwest and it is indeed winter. Our apartment, in a building we share with two other families on a farm, sits only yards from our pigs, chickens, cows, and a large community garden. The well that supplies our drinking and flushing water and the water for all the animals depends on electricity to run.
As I get cozy with my three children on the couch, we have no idea that we are only at the beginning of two and a half days without water, heat, a stove, or, gasp, the internet.
My two older children and I make a fun afternoon of it, reading and swapping books. When evening comes and the power is still out, my husband grabs his camping stove from the basement. We have a dinner of reheated turkey soup by candlelight and headlamp.
As we enjoy the momentary romance of a simpler evening, our parent-child conversations are predictable.
Did you know that when my grandparents grew up on a farm, they didn’t have any electricity?
They didn’t even have indoor toilets. Or washing machines. Or movies! They had to make their own music.
Won’t we be thankful when the power comes on tomorrow?
But the next morning, the lights are still off. The house is 50 degrees. The unflushed toilet has begun to stink.
Read the rest over at Circling the Story...