This past Saturday the power went out around 7 a.m. No problem, really. It wasn't that cold out and we have a gas stove to cook on, but the lack of Internet was inconvenient because I haven't finished my holiday shopping.
My husband Dan has asked Santa to bring him "On Demand," a service offered by DirecTV that is essentially "Netflix", instant access to thousands of shows and movies.
I needed to order a connection kit so the TV can talk to the wireless router. But, no electricity, no online purchases.
(I have since received the "talk box", but found out that our satellite service does not have the capability to download shows without exceeding the threshold limit. What that means is, it takes several hours to download a 1/2 hour show, and only one every 24 hours, crippling internet access for e-mail, surfing, and uploads. I tried to return the unwelcome unit the following day, but DirecTV refused to accept it back, stating "all sales are final"; I will be contacting the VT Attorney General's office about that.)
The power was still out when Dan came in from chores. There were groceries to buy, and O.C. McCuin's was having 30% off on all the regularly priced items you could fit in a bag. Why hang around the house in the dark?
Swanton was not a sans-power town according to Vermont Electric Co-op's message machine, so we went out to eat breakfast at the My-T-Fine, hoping the lights would be on when we returned.
("Squirrel fans" in the white boxes force air into these plastic baffles, creating the sides to the parlor. They raise and lower according to a thermostat, but in a power outage they deflate completely and let the weather in.)
Two hours later, the milking parlor air curtains were still down so we sat in the car in the driveway, motor running. It wasn't time to panic, but it was time to plan.
We have over 100 baby chicks under heat lamps, and the parlor hadn't gone through its wash cycle.
The cheeses would be okay, since it is excessive warmth and lack of air circulation that ruins them; it would be at least a day before they were a cause for concern.
We have one mobile generator and one tractor-run that is powerful enough to run the milking parlor, but the source of the livestock water is provided by the well at my house. Both are critical. Two needs, two generators.
You see, every farm building isn't on the same meter, and there are 3 barns, a cheeseplant, and three homes to take under consideration in a prolonged outage, not to mention the rental properties we are responsible for.
Though we never lost power during the 1988 ice storm, there was a mid-summer lightning strike on the Cassidy Road that put us out for six hours and made us think.
My recollection was that we were supposed to have purchased a second mobile generator. But we didn't. There are always more pressing places for money to go.
Each quarter-hour that ticked by transformed a minor problem into a shifting list of priorities. How long would the birds be okay? When do the lines need to be cleaned? And, when would our new outdoor furnace snuff out?
(The furnace is the black box on the right, no colored smoke ever blows out because it is so efficient.)
Without an auger delivering pellets or corn to burn, I have no heat or hot water at the house. I realized that it would be of no use in a bona fide emergency, and made a mental note to check the level of the propane tank.
The power came on around 9:30 a.m., while we were talking about what to hook up first.
I now know what I want for Christmas.
(The P-r-e-c-i-o-u-ssssss)
