These Moments

Every time the power goes out, we vow to be more prepared next time: stock up a box with canned goods, candles, batteries and flashlights, a jug of water, etc. We don't own a generator, but luckily, our woodstove saves us every time. I've cooked spaghetti, perogies and sausage, pancakes, popcorn, and eggs and bacon on it. When I do use it, I ask myself why I don't use it all winter, whether the power is out or not. I relish the simplicity of it all, and often have a twinge of regret when the Hydro One workers fix the problem and the lights flicker back on.

With payday 3 days away, our cupboards are getting bare, so it was canned baked beans on toast, popcorn, and carrot sticks for dinner. The kids loved it. We had a fairy guest for dinner who kept stealing Violet's juice when her head was turned, and tickling Jude's toes under the table. We had more fun than we've had in awhile at the dinner table.

Warming their post-bath-buns by the woodstove.

Those lips!

Jude and Margot were enthralled with the LCD lantern I bought to bring on my retreat.

Violet blew at the candle to make it look like "spiwits dancing".

Our beloved beeswax candles, sharing their clean, warm light.

...and Jude's expression when the power came back on.

Because the power flashed off and on all afternoon and evening, we had to adapt quickly; the older ones were in the bath when the lights flickered out, and it happened again during storytime. I spontaneously invited Jude and Violet outside to look at the stars without any residual light from nearby villages and houses. They oohed at the Milky Way, and we talked about constellations, satellites, planets, and stars.

It all kind of makes me want to declare one night a week "Off Grid Night". The quiet simplicity of it all is compelling. This marks our first (and certainly not last) power-outage of the Long Dark (fall-winter). Aside from the fact that our water doesn't work (pump is powered by electricity, of course) and the possiblity of food-spoilage if the outage lasts, I find myself kind of looking forward to more evenings like this one, where our energy is taken up by the most primitive of tasks: keeping warm, and feeding our family.

It feels like a retreat from the busy, noisy conveniences of modern life: we leave the dishes, sit close together near the woodstove, and make up silly stories and games. I can't help but imagine that these nights will be among my children's fondest memories.

The wind is fierce; I'd better post this now before my screen goes dark once again. Good night, all.