We all knew it was coming. We had time to debate just how bad it was going to be, and whether temps were really going to get as low as the direst prognostications claimed. (The lowest predicted temperature for our part of Guadalupe County, east of the Balcones Escarpment, was one degree.)
And we had time to prepare. We remembered the winter storm of 2011, with its single-digit temps in parts of Texas, and the rolling blackouts, which in our case turned out to be one long blackout, which turned out to be an actual power outage. Brother, you talk about cold. You know how some folks say that being uncomfortably hot is worse than being uncomfortably cold, because those who are hot can only take off so many layers of clothing, but those who are cold can always put more layers on? In 2011 I wore as many layers as I could fit on my person, including three Thinsulate garments and a full-length wool coat, and got into bed under all the covers, and was still wretchedly cold.
But live and learn, right? We didn’t have the wood-burning stove in 2011. We do now, and it really puts out the heat. The husband brought up a pickup bed’s worth of firewood to our back porch, and stocked up his mother with firewood as well. We filled all our plastic pitchers with water and laid in a good supply of food that could be eaten straight from the packaging, or cooked or reheated on the propane stove. Last year’s lockdowns and shortages have tested us and taught us where our preparedness was adequate and where it needed shoring up, so we were as prepared as we could be. At the last minute, the husband and daughter went on a shopping trip and brought home even more food, including quite a bit of recreational food. This ended up being a good move.
Helena, an outdoor cat, checks out our supply of food and drink for the winter storm.
We have a well, so we’re not reliant on city water. We didn’t just drip our faucets–we ran them, hot and cold, and ran outdoor hydrants as well. We were fine until sometime in the night when the temperatures took a drastic plunge and the blackouts started. They lasted a whole lot longer than the predicted fifteen minutes. The well pump runs on electricity, so once the tank ran dry, there wasn’t any more water to run, and the pipes under the house froze. We were able to fill up with water at my mother-in-law’s until her water gave out also. After that, my husband and daughter took our plastic pitchers out to the well itself and filled them up there.
The livestock all did fine. The pigs hunkered down together in a wallow beside a woodpile for warmth, and emerged, grunting happily, to get their feed. The goats capered in the cold, the horses wandered around looked unconcerned, and the cattle went about their business as usual. The chickens kept giving us three to four eggs a day.
We had plenty of candles, including battery-operated LED tea lights and tapers, as well as kerosene lamps. The soft lighting helped to obscure what a mess the house was getting to be with all the muddy work boots, firewood, ash, and dirty dishes piling up.
Things got a mite chilly in the house. We wore layers and stayed close to the wood-burning stove. My Snoopy comfort pants provided a nice extra insulating layer over my tight sweats, jeans, and flannel pajama bottoms.
When it got really cold overnight, we let the outdoor cats in–an adventure for them and for us. They are a tough bunch. Violet, a blue-eyed Siamese mix, is the sort of cat who enjoys knocking things off counters and watching them crash to the floor–not a good combination with kerosene lamps or flame candles–but we took precautions, and no lasting harm was done.
Violent Violet gloats at me from the baskets on top of the wardrobe.
We had our youngest child with us for most of the Snowpocalypse. She helped feed livestock and break up ice in the watering trough and take care of chickens and wash dishes with water heated on the stove. The three of us spent a lot of time together, talking and being quiet and keeping warm. The WiFi failed pretty early, so we watched DVDs–actually just one DVD that ended up spanning a couple of days because of all the power outages. We were all in the living room together on the night when we received word that the outages were going to get worse before they got better, and even our cellular data failed at last. My e-reader still had power, so I read aloud to my husband. The book was A Holiday by Gaslight, a Victorian romance by Mimi Matthews. He loved it.
Near the end of our snowed-in time, I started removing the old fabric from a chair I plan to reupholster. I’ve been making slipcovers and reupholstering furniture for years. I have the right tools, but even so, removing staples is a hard and tedious job. It did pass the time, though, and I’ve decided that one of the next books in my Truly Texas series is going to feature a long-time rancher hero snowed in with a heroine who has an upholstery business.
We are pretty much thawed out here now. It turns out we do have at least one busted pipe. The hardware stores are sold out and won’t be restocked for a couple of days. Greg had purple primer and sealant, but not enough pipe or couplings of the appropriate size. He put out word on Facebook, along with pictures and a list of other sizes of couplings and pipe that we had available for trade. Within minutes he had several offers from a church friend, a neighbor, and a stranger.
So far, we seem to have come through all right. Lots of folks have had it far worse. I’ve seen stories of friends and strangers meeting their challenges with dignity, ingenuity, and good cheer. (Did you know you could heat water for livestock with a propane turkey fryer? I didn’t, but I do now.) I’m heartened by stories of people going out of their way to help one another. I’ve prayed for friends and strangers across the country, and they have prayed for me.
A lot of people are angry. Much of the anger may be justified. Clearly, mistakes were made, and I hope those responsible will learn and do better next time. But in many cases the anger isn’t directed at any organization or purpose in particular. There seems to be a feeling that someone, out there, is to blame. Someone ought to pay. I might feel this way myself if I had suffered as much as some have. But I do think that the human tendency to lay blame is a way of distancing ourselves from the fact that we simply live in a fallen world in which, under the providence of God, bad things happen. We prepare all we can–or we ought to–but we can’t cover every contingency.
Greg just returned from picking up the 1-inch couplings he needed. Our neighbor brought the pipe to our house. By noon tomorrow, the temperature is expected to reach the low seventies–and God willing, we might actually have running water again. We have much to be thankful for–good friends, good neighbors, healthy animals, a beautiful place to live, and each other. We are indeed blessed.
Valentine’s Day 2021. Snow just beginning to fall.
