Last night, the power was out for hours--I never did find out why. The younger set and I had a marvelous time, though. Whenever the power goes out--which is often in these mountains--there's a definite protocol around here, one we fall into naturally. Mr. Strega gets on the phone with his friend and they spend a great deal of time calling the power company and reporting the outage. Then, when they learn what caused the outage and what time the power will go on, they call each other to report this, making sure everyone in their respective households has all the information, too . They also talk rather proudly, yet nerd-ily, about which appliances we can plug into the battery backup and for how long. Last night, it was the breadmaker.
I am in charge of lanterns and candles, making sure every room has some light. My old saints' candles from more than ten years ago, the ones I bought at the Safeway in Felton, are nearly down to their last bits of wax. Soon it will be time to cut new wicks for them and pour clean wax inside; I wonder how long it will take to burn them all down again.
Mr. Strega builds the fire up until it is roaring--another source of light, and of heat when the power's out. Last night, the fire poured orange light into the living room, and my youngest came upstairs with a book, to read by kerosene lamp. I was brought immediately back to 2001 and my first semester of graduate school; the power failed for three days during a storm and I read Angle of Repose by the light of an oil lamp. It seems so long ago, and yet not that far away.
My daughters make a patched-together dinner of tomato soup, homemade bread, cut-up apples, and potstickers, not very nutritious, but something easily put together in the dark. I realize now, as a mother of nearly-grown children, how precious these times are together, for they are moving into their own lives--something unimaginable when they were little, yet it is the very thing we worked towards in those years, the realization of their own dreams and goals. My younger daughter said, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to live like this all the time?" The darkness made everyone tired and we all went to bed early.
So, winter has finally come to Santa Cruz, with the occasional times when the lights flicker and go out!
2 comments:
Ah, yes, I remember the lights going out often when we lived in Santa Cruz. It puzzled me because sometimes they'd go out even with a light mist of rain. You sure make it sound cozy!
Thanks, Kate. Yes, it's that time of year again. My kids actually seem to like when the lights go out,and used to play "power failure" when it hadn't happened in awhile.
Post a Comment