After the boys went to sleep yesterday evening, Dane and I puttered
our way through the night time chores, folding laundry, packing lunches,
sifting through paperwork. Each of us sat down by the stove "to rest a
minute" at least twice, and of course the minute dragged into half an
hour every time. Finally, I made my last round through the kitchen at
about 10:30, turning off lamps and making sure the refrigerator was
really shut. As I walked past a window on my way back to
the living room, I was startled by a cluster of bright lights that were
suddenly in my peripheral vision. I retraced my steps and looked out
the window, expecting to see a snow plow or a tractor on the road. But
all I saw was Orion, improbably bright and gaudy, straddling half the southern horizon.
Given what the sky looked like, it
wasn't very surprising that I woke up a few hours later, shivering. The
power was out (again), and the living room stove couldn't keep the
bedrooms warm without the fan. I snuggled up to Dane and fell asleep. I
woke up again when I heard frozen little feet pattering to the bed, and I
was cold enough that I hauled Tristan under the covers gratefully.
When the alarm went off the power was still out, and I stayed under the
comforter waiting for the sky to brighten enough for me to creep to the
kitchen, hook up an old fashioned phone by candle light, and start
figuring out how big the power outage was. Duncan turned up in the mean time -- "My covers fell off! I want to snuggle with you, Mom."
And
so the day began. The thermometer said -9 F. School was canceled, work
was closed, candles were lit in the pump house, little boys with bright red
cheeks and shivering backs ate brownies for breakfast eight inches from the front of the stove.
It's been quite a fine winter so far.
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