Winter 2009

For a week, my world came to a stand still. The house went cold and silent. When we would go home to check on things, it was lifeless, a shell that could easily be removed with no consequence to humanity.

As the week progressed, we realized many things. That our place on this planet was not this building, the ability to heat it, water to drink from it's taps. It was the people who lived in it, the people who lived near it, the relationships we had in our community.

After the power was restored, I heard a familiar regret (mingled with relief) in the voices of friends. Regret, you might ask? Why would anyone regret the end of such an ordeal?

All schedules were cancelled. Technology was largely unavailable and people began to seek each other. Staying with friends and neighbors, or hunkering down with family in front of wood stoves, people came together.


I don't know how one fully thanks friends who gave up their privacy and homes to take others in, but it was repeated in this crisis across our community. We had the pleasure of gathering with friends over the four days we were out of our home, enjoying each other's company in the absence of our normally busy and independent lives.

Kindness was evident everywhere. People slowed their lives, and asked about the welfare of others. Friends remarked that they wanted to retain these lessons, to remember to connect without waiting for a crisis. Times like these truly change one's priorities.

Now, as you know, cold is not my forte, and I was delighted to be staying with neighbors who found the snowfall to be a novelty, having just moved from Florida. (I agree with them that this storm was God's way of seeing if they truly meant it when they moved to Kentucky! Are they here to stay?)

Jim, the father, gave our kids a lifetime memory. He hooked up his Gator to a string of sleds and pulled the kids about his field. After, William said, "Thank you for pulling us around. Now we'll know what to do with our kids when we have them."

(Photo courtesy of my friend, Becky.)

Sledding was a daily activity.

Jim and Jennifer's house was filled with families coming together, and later, we all went into town to the Irish pub. Here is the table full of kids that went with us. The adults enjoyed their meal at another table.

Like the blizzard of 1978 which brought my family together for a week in front of the fireplace, my kids will remember this winter like no other, as will I. We remain indebted to our friends and neighbors who nutured us both mentally and physically through this time.

On Sunday, while doing our horse chores, we saw the power company trucks rolling down our street like the Allied forces coming to liberate the country. Dh and Lauren jumped up and down, trying to get their attention, but only appeared to be cheering the workers on. Shortly after, our lights came back on, though it took until 11 p.m. that evening before our house was warm enough to return.


I am finding it difficult to get back in the saddle again. Perhaps this is because we've had more snowfall this week, cancelling most activities on Tuesday, when we got over four inches of snow. It remains frigid here, and just motivating ourselves to do horse chores takes a monumental effort. I am told it will warm up later this week. I do hope so.

Notes:

Aloha Mo (rooster) has a girlfriend. He was integrated during this cold with the four large older hens, and "Hawk", a reddish mutt hen, fell head over heels. He guards her as she lays her eggs, and they roost together at night.

Phantom (pony) is a bit skittish and picked on by other horses. One probably scared him and he ran into something, leaving an upside down V-shaped cut on his face. It required about five stitches and five staples, but seems to be healing well.

My blogging routine is ruined, but I am working on trying to get back into the "habit". There is so much to do to catch up.
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