The snow has started.
It’s not going to stop any time soon, either. We’re in for a serious winter storm. We’ve had barely any measurable snow so far this winter, so I guess we were due. Not much chance it will fall only on the green parts of the world. We’re expecting somewhere between a foot and a ridiculous amount of snow, and hoping that the electricity stays on.
We both came home from work prudently early, while trains were still running and roads were clear enough for safe passage. Since then, I puttered in the kitchen and stocked the woodpile; she did what she does: she’s been writing email copy for a message that will be sent from her work account tomorrow. She helps raise money to shelter, feed, and support homeless children. What better time to send such a message as to be read by people who’ve already hunkered down, warm and safe in their homes?
The fireplace is set. The flashlights have batteries, and candles are at the ready. There’s plenty of cat food and litter-box filler. Prescriptions have been refilled. We have blankets and warm clothes.
And, of course, food.
A batch of pulled pork came out of the slow cooker. She made chili. We’ve got cold cuts for sandwiches. She baked cranberry bread last night, and I have a loaf of No-Knead about to go into the oven, now that a batch of granola has come out. There are baked potatoes. Greens. Eggs–some hard-boiled, many ready for omelets or scrambling. There’s a cast-iron pot and skillet in case we need to press coals into service for cooking.
We probably ought to remind ourselves that there are only two of us, and that we live on an emergency route.
For reasons probably related to the barometer the bread dough was a sticky mess, but at last it’s in the oven and I’m not banging about. Tapping of laptop keys, the furnace blowing warm air, the cats’ fountain keeping their water fresh. Outside, a plow truck scrapes by occasionally, sounding a little like a low-passing aircraft. Beyond that, the world is still and silent. When the sun rises we’ll see what’s become of the world, but for now there’s the eerie calm-during-the-storm, the held breath of the pretty well prepared, and the waiting.
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