A spring ice storm is an infuriating event. Even under the best of circumstances, which would typically find them blowing quickly over, the ice and snow disappearing as quickly and easily as they came, they are an annoyance, lending danger to a time of the year when we just want to get out from under winter. Our recent bout with an ice storm took out several power lines and plunged us into a cold darkness that lasted three days.
After COVID, and after last year, a few days without electricity was merely annoying, and not as trying as it would have been without a bit of perspective. Andy and I grew a little closer in the shared endeavor of basic survival in ‘Little House on the Prairie’ fashion, lighting candles and warming our tea kettle on the gas fireplace, sole source of warmth in our basement. Suzie would later remind me that I’m more Nellie Olsen than Laura Ingalls, and who could argue with Suzie?
By the time the electricity came back on three days after we lost it, Andy and I both seemed to feel a little let-down at the not-so-sudden return to bright light, television noise, and all the beeps and bells and humming wizardry of modern technological advances. As much as I had missed the convenience of electricity, I also suddenly missed the quiet and stillness that the power outage had given us, whether we realized how much we wanted it or not.
