Snowbound
The winter of 2023 has been a doozy in the Sierra Foothills of northern California where Kit and I recently emerged from a 10-day power outage that lasted from February 27 through March 7. Snow accumulations are historic, transforming rooftops and roads into a blindingly white wintry landscape that appears to be upside down. There is so much snow on the three-tiered decks beyond our great room window that the porch railings and green lanterns that line them have literally disappeared.
Snowbound, our world shrank further with each new foot of snow piled upon the last. The evergreen forest of tall pines, firs and cedars that surround us morphed into giant white shrouds— an army of ghosts seeking refuge on a wintry night. Oh, the silence of a world gone dark. And yet, we coped and pressed on following that ominous moment when our lights flickered, then failed, and all went dark. Text messages began to arrive from Pacific Gas & Electric and Xfinity telling us we were in for an extended, county-wide power-outage. It was time to kick into survival mode and keep in touch via text messages with our neighbors.
Because we live in an area where fire season and winter storms present ever-present challenges to the power grid, we bought a Generac generator our first winter in the neighborhood and keep a 5-gallon gas can at the ready in the garage. When threats of snow loomed in late February, I reviewed the directions for plugging it in, firing it up, and keeping it fueled. Happily, within minutes of the power going off on February 27, I moved it outside and with a little tutorial and muscle from our neighbor Jim got it plugged into the power box and flipped the lever from utility mode to generator.
For ten days, our sole source of heat was a cast iron gas fireplace and wool lap blankets. When we needed a couple hours of generated power in the mornings and evenings, I’d fill the generator with gas and fire it up. Because it sits out in the elements and the elements were in non-stop blizzard mode, each trip outside required me to suit up in snow gear, manually raise the garage door, shovel my way to the generator, shake off the cover, and being the three-step process of getting the little orange champ running. Switch from Off to Choke, walk around to the side and pull the ignition cord, switch settings to Run, and once the motor is engaged, walk through the garage to a side door, and switch the long lever handle down from Utility to Generator mode on the power box.
Mornings began in the dark at 5 a.m. without a radio or digital clock to wake us. Without electricity rooms were lit softly by AA-battery powered candles. Flashlights refilled with new D batteries were at the ready in anticipation of the coming storm, and a headlamp led my way across the dark garage on my trips back and forth to the generator. Before going to bed each night, I filled my parent’s old Revere Ware percolator with water and Peet’s Dark Roast ground coffee so it was ready each morning when I lit the gas burner with a match. Any baking took place while the generator was running. Pan-toasted English muffins and sourdough bread were delicious. And the perked coffee was good and hot. Who needs a Nespresso machine at such times?
It was a perfect time for creative soups, pots of fire-roasted vegetarian chili, vegetable stir fries, brothy Rahman noodles, spaghetti, tacos, cheeseburgers, omelets, and grilled cheese sandwiches. Hot cups of lavender herbal tea with honey and a pumpkin biscotti hit the spot mid-afternoons.
What got us through the storms above all else was the love and help of our wonderful local neighbors. Pete and his young son Anders cleared the driveway four times with his gator and plow fixture until there was simply no place to shove the mounds that piled up. Eventually, a firefighter named Josh literally scooped buckets full of snow with a Bobcat and dumped it off to the sides of the driveway to clear a path for entry and exit. Once that was done, I kept up with each day’s fresh accumulation using a mini snowblower that our daughter Heidi and son Hayden ordered for me. After a week of daily snow blowing exercise, my biceps were toned and the mountain of snow I’ve blown over the tunnel the Bobcat created along the sides of the driveway is impressive.
Our neighbors Carol, Jim and Don are champion snow shovelers. And wonderful Tim rounded up everyone’s gas cans periodically and braved the drive downhill to a gas station to top them off before the next wave of snow arrived. Tim’s wife Terri delivered homemade cookies and made a huge pot of minestrone soup, while I keep neighbors supplied with mini loaves of banana walnut and pumpkin pecan bread. Morning and evenings, I read aloud to Kit from a stack of novels from our home library. And at the end of each day, we had each other to cozy around under piles of warm wool blankets and a goose down comforter. As Jane Eyre noted at the conclusion of Charlotte Brontë’s tale, “Friends, we survived.”
