Sunday morning a blinking alarm clock signaled that we’d lost power overnight.
Our house is earth-sheltered on three sides, so we’ve slept through hurricanes. Up until this summer, so has the house. Last winter we connected to ‘the grid’ after ten years of making our own electricity. The irony is that for the better part of those ten years we never lost power, especially not due to a storm.
Saturday night I had stayed up to try to paint. I had painted through one episode of Downton Abbey when a gust of wind whipped across the deck, rattling a few chairs and causing our ancient but beloved tag-sale awning to flap furiously. I checked the weather app and, noting that rain was due sooner than originally predicted, took a break to roll up the awning and move outdoor items into ‘storm position.’
I completely forgot my Saturday night storm preparations until I stepped outside for a morning caffeine run to the country store. The deck was wet, but the storm precautions had paid off, and there was no damage, only a few fallen branches in the driveway. A year ago, actually seeing Mother Nature’s redecorating would have been the first indicator that we had had ‘weather’. Now, as we get more connected to all the possibilities offered by seemingly limitless electricity, it seems like a funny thing that a blinking light is our first indicator that she’s been ranting all night.