Black Out

The lights went out just like I knew they would. We had a howler of a storm out there, and I was prepared. I lit an oil lamp with a fresh wick I had installed hours before. I had 3 bottles of lamp oil, 3 oil lamps, and 5 wicks. Which should last me a week. If I'm sparing. Hopefully, I won't be waiting that long, but if so, I'm prepared. I have a glorious wood stove. I will have to be sparing with that, too. By the time I got to the hardware store, they only had 3 cases of bio bricks left. That leaves me with 9 bricks. That'll last me 5 days if I'm lucky. Thankfully, a department store down the road sold something called a Harty Heater. It pushed cold air through it and pumped warm air out the other side. Ceramic heating. What a blessing. It was a small unit, but I was hoping to get a couple of days out of it. For the wood stove, I grabbed all my recycling and newspapers and piled them nearby.

I had enough canned and preserved food to last for weeks. Including preserving some meat in salt similar to how folks riding the Oregon Trail secured their meat in their wagons for long journeys. Food was not a problem. Heat, on the other hand, was pressing on my mind. In a storm like this, you need 3 things. Food, shelter, and heat. My house was pretty well buttoned down, but it wasn't air-tight. I had blankets and pillows all drug out to the living room so I could sleep next to the stove and block off the other rooms to preserve heat. Thank god I had an attatched kitchen. Minnesota winters were no joke. You had to be prepared. Otherwise, the storms up here would swallow you up.

I turned to the kitchen window to see the last shreds of daylight, leaving the blizzarding field of snow outside my home. It was going to be a frigid night. The house was already starting to chill. I started layering. I had 2 sweaters with hoods, warm pants, and 2 pairs of socks already. I put on a jacket, a bigger pair of socks, and slipped a pair of heavy sweats on over my pants.

I checked my makeshift bed to recount all the layers I had: sleeping bag, 2 fleece blankets inside, thick sheepskin over top, pillow wrapped in fleece, and a heavy headsock two sizes too big to wear while I slept. God, I hope I stayed warm this time. The last storm I nearly froze to death. Once frost bite sets in, it doesn't stop. It sticks with you every time you brace the cold. I'm more prepared this time. I will be ok. I will make it through this storm.

After mentally assuring myself, I went about dinner preparations. I had gotten a butane burner with 5 extra tanks to heat up canned food. I could even set an open can on it to warm up. Not ideally the way to use it, but it worked in a pinch. I had 10 2-gallon jugs of water, but none of that was going to be used for cleaning dishes. Possibly a fork if I was desperate. I could boil water in a pot if I'm desperate. I noticed I've been thinking of that word a lot, desperate, something told me I would get a lot more than that before the power came back. I attempted to settle myself down and went to retrieve a can of baked beans from the little shelf I stored my cans on. I decided to spoil myself a little and grabbed 2 strips of bacon from the salt freezer, and laid them on top of the little pot of beans to cook.

After I polished off my supper, I flipped on the Harty Heater and squirmed into my sleeping bag. I would shut it off before I dozed off.

Day 1

I woke up the next morning to the heater running. I quickly panicked and shut it off. I realized that it would only produce a couple of hours of heating power. I was careless last night. This will cost me the heat. I thought to myself. I might be doomed after all.

"No!" I shouted. I will brave the cold and find more wood. I will walk to the store 3 miles down and buy some kindling. I will find a way. Even thinking of that 3-mile walk brought the frostbite in my fingers back in full force. I'll bundle better this time. I won't get cold. It is one thing if the power goes out in summer. Winter is a totally different animal. The power never goes out in the summer because there is no threat to the power grid. Winter is a threat to all. I grabbed some paper and started a list of heating ideas and side notes while my mind was still sharp enough to do so:

Heat:

-kindling at the store: frostbite, dry wood.

-scavenging: not dry, not much wood.

I struggled to think of another heat source other than tearing down a few walls to burn in the wood stove. Did I have any useless wood furniture? I had a coffee table in the den. That could work. I loved that coffee table, but it was no use to me in a living room with no heat. I added it to the list reluctantly.

"If I'm desperate, that's what I'll do." I stated to myself. I must remain calm. If I didn't, I would not be able to survive this blizzard.

Day 2

The Harty Heater ran out last night. It ran for another hour, maybe. The cold air has started to seap into the house. I need to preserve my bio bricks. Once those run out, I'm down to the coffee table and recycling. I'll stand the chill as long as I can.

A warm meal of canned soup helped ease my nerves and my tensely cold bones. I think I will take a nap and see where the day goes.

It is frigid. There is no heat left in the house. I must light a fire soon. Before I do, I double-check all of my sealed doorways with the orange hues of daylight. The longer I can go without lighting oil lamps, the better I will be prepared. I decided to pass the time with a game of cribbage. I got bored after two games of moving myself around the peg board. I picked up my needle felting. I had been making pumpkins since September. They were easy enough and kept my hands focused. I punched away for as the sun set. I made a simple punch to one of the inner sides of the pumpkin, sticking myself straight on the pad of my index finger. I let out a yelp and dropped the barbed needle. It clattered to the floor as I realized my grave mistake.

The sun had gone down. I did not turn on an oil lamp. There was a needle on the floor. Not only that, but a barbed one. It was near my feet. I very carefully moved each foot out to the side and stood up bow-legged. I tip toed to the oil lamp and lit it. Letting the warm smell enter my nostrils as the gas from the oil lamp filled the room. I stepped cautiously back to the chair where I had sat and traced my fingers gently across the floor. Searching for any trace of glinting metal or tiny barbs gracing my fingertips. Searching for a needle was like breaking a glass. Tense and in constant fear of sudden pain.

The panic was settling into my bones along with the seemingly sudden coldness of the house. I had let the heat go in the process of my pumpkin making. My hand brushed against the hooked end of the needle. I felt my way back to it and found the other end instead. I felt the prick of the barbs in my skin as I lifted the needle. I grabbed the other end with my free hand and stuck the newly bleeding finder in my mouth.

I decided it was time for supper and cooked up some ravioli. Taking in the heat from the burner and watching the small blue flame that danced in time with the oil lamp burning near me. I put another coat on and laid a blanket over my lap while I watched the can of ravioli start to bubble. It was day two, and I had given up on pots. This was easier anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

Almost as if on cue, the can of ravioli tipped over with the burner onto the blanket on my lap. I jumped up and stomped on the tiny flames that had leaped up the fringes of the blanket. I turned the burner off quickly and placed it upright. Looking back at my spilled ravioli, I decided that maybe pots were a good backup, and some sort of framework would be good for the burner. I had no clue how to build a framework, but it was worth a shot, so I didn't burn holes in all my blankets. I let out a deep sigh and picked up the contents of the burnt can. I ate a suprisingly cold can of beans, not wanting to run the risk of the burner again. I turned the oil lamp as low as it would go so I would not waste the wick. Also because I was a bit ashamed of my stupidity and almost house fire that I preferred to wallow in the cold darkness of my living room. I went to bed freezing with all my jackets on.

Day 3

I'm going to be productive today! I've got at least another week of this damn snow, and I can't sit in here like a bump on a log! I started a small fire. Giving into the beautiful warmth of the wood stove felt like the smartest thing I had done so far. I found a few extra scarves and blankets and ventured outside with a pair of snow shoes to the shed. I could have an extra couple of logs in the back there. Thank goodness I installed a half dividing door on the shed. Otherwise, I couldn't get into it. The snow was almost 4 feet high. I almost couldn't get the top part of the door open. I had to clear a few inches of snow and unfreeze the door by standing huddled up to it for minutes on end. I'm bearing the cold whipping wind and snow with my back. I took off my gloves and felt around the hinges, trying to thaw them with my fingers.

After roughly 15 minutes of thawing duty, the door finally budged enough that I could force it open. I stumbled back before laying on my belly and army crawling partway into the shed. I left my legs in the snow so I could crawl our if I needed to. I wasn't sure if I could hoist myself back up out of the shed. I had brought my only battery-operated flashlight with me and shined it around the shed. The beam stopped on 3 good pieces of wood, in the very back of the shed. I'd have to climb in before I could reach them. I looked around the shed again to see what I could stand on to get out. I spotted a wooden crate and some rope I could use to pull it up afterward. In my situation, wood was wood. It all burns the same. I felt very fortunate at that moment. Before I went into the shed.

I clumsily tumbled down onto the floor of the shed and walked the 2 feet to grab the wood. With 1 under one arm and 2 under the other, I walked to the door and placed them just outside. I then grabbed the wooden crate in front of me after tying the rope to it. I should've checked it. I stepped up on the box, and it crumpled beneath my weight.

"Well, it was small enough to go in the wood stove now," I thought.

I turned my flashlight back to the shed and saw a tattered old wood bag and a metal toolbox on opposing sides of the icy wooden shed that was seeming more like a coffin by the minute.

I gathered the broken wooden crate into the bag and slung it up outside the door. I dragged the heavy toolbox over in front of the door and clambered up to the brilliant light of the blizzarding snow. I needed to get out of this shed as soon as possible. After a few attempts, I managed to pull myself up onto the layer of snow outside the half-door. I took a minute to get my breath back and grabbed my full wood bag after closing the door. I looked back at the little hut as if to say ha! I escaped you! Then, I turned back towards home.

Once I got inside, I lit a fire with a bio brick and let the newly gathered wood dry out in front of the little heat source. I reveled in the luxurious warmth coming from the small fire I had made. The whole room seemed to hum with it. I even cooked a porkchop on top of the stove and had a can of peaches for dessert. After I was stuffed and happy, I slowly let the fire die out to conserve the other half of the brick for tomorrow. I went to bed warm and rewarded.

Day 4

I lit the fire the minute I got up. It was so damn cold that I had no choice. I heated up some oatmeal on the stove and added some raisins. Thank goodness I stocked up on food. I needed to eat more. I had only eaten 1 meal for the past 3 days. This breakfast was my first sign of recovery! I went into the day feeling positive from yesterday's achievements and unsure of what I wanted to accomplish today. I spent half the day in a lull of unsuredness. I sat in front of the fire and stoked it, adding a second brick and some of the wooden crate once the first brick burned down. Since finding the extra logs, I wasn't concerned about heat. I could last 3, maybe 4 days, conserving, and I only had to last 2! I gorged on dinner, feeling famished and ravenous. I ate half a loaf of bread with peanut butter and 2 cans of tomato soup on the wood stove. Not having to deal with that pesky burner saved me a headache and stress. I had wood to spare. Before I fell asleep, I put one of the logs on and let that burn as I drifted off in my sleeping bag, shedding a few layers thanks to the warm fire in front of me.

Day 5

I stayed up to feed the fire. I grew to love watching it burn. So much that I couldn't bear to snuff it out. It was so warm. I went through 5 bricks by morning. Using my recycling and the wooden crate to light each brick. I had 2 bricks and 3 logs left. Watching the sun come up with a crackling fire in front of me was heavenly. I didn't even feel tired.

After the sun had risen and I ate 2 pieces of bacon off the wood stove. I took a small cat nap after putting a 6th brick in as the 5th started to dwindle. I fell asleep blissfully, warm and full.

I awoke to a half-afternoon sun. Along with the glowing embers of the 6th brick. I had 1 brick left and 3 logs. I figured I would only have to wait a couple more days because the snow had finally stopped. I could be forgiving with the wood. I had been so cold before lighting the fire. I couldn't let it go out now.

I fed the last brick to the embers. Then, put the last of the wooden crate and newspapers around it to catch. I stood up and stretched, feeling a lightness from removing layer after layer, as the house filled with warmth. If I kept the fire going, everything would be ok.

I went back to my needle felting. Careful not to drop the needle this time. Punching away, I watched the fire. I felt time slip by me as I punched and stared. The next thing I knew, it was dark outside, and the only light left was the glowing burst of light in front of me. It was starting to wither. I added 2 logs, praying it would catch. It wouldn't. I panicked. I sprinted to my kitchen and hunted for paper, cardboard, anything that would catch fire. I found a small stack of napkins and went to work, placing them around the smoldering ashes. I used half the stack and saved the rest for next time.

By the time I loaded the last log on the fire, I recognized I was hungry. I cooked a toasty can of beans and ate it, slowly gazing at flames. Time seemed to stop yet constantly move faster. I stared into my wood stove. That little voice said, "It's time to burn the coffee table."

I never hesitated. Tearing down a barricade, I cleared it and brought it out. Splitting it with a handheld ax, I loaded it into the fire steadily. Until blaze orange was spilling out of the furnace. I let it lick up the rug nearby. And then my sleeping bag. It was so warm.