Reasonably Educated Bumpkins

It was a dark and stormy night.

But I, in my north-facing bedroom, couldn't hear the wind beginning to howl. The girls could, though. They heard the old calf barn cave in some time before dawn.

Not that the barn hadn't been trying to commit suicide for years, mind you. But it succeeded early Friday morning, as the storm -- the storm that will probably be called The Great Storm of Ought Eight or something when we're old and crabby -- descended upon northern California and most of the west coast.



Anybody want some old barn wood? It's original, it's wood, and it's crappy!

My three volunteer trees are in danger. I think the littlest one, an oak tree, is a goner.

Whatever you do, don't breathe on this wall.

I woke up early Friday morning and hit the shower first thing, in case the power went out. I couldn't imagine going to work without benefit of a shower; it never occurred to me that I certainly shouldn't entertain the idea of driving that morning at all. After my shower I turned on the kitchen TV -- nothing. Two of the Chico stations were out. The Redding station came in, but not well. The news? BIG STORM. Well, I sort of guessed that much.

I ate some cereal, then did what any smart person facing a weather emergency would do: I trimmed my bangs.

And then the electricity went out. Once, twice, and the third time was for keeps, at just before 7:00 a.m. When your water comes from a well, as opposed to a city water system, you lose water immediately in a power outage, and that includes the ability to flush the toilet more than once. The reality of the situation was settling on me, so I did what any smart person facing a weather emergency would do: I drove down the road to my parents' house.

Mom and Dad didn't have power either, of course, but they have a gas fireplace -- HEAT! -- and a gas stove -- EAT! So, after a cup of hot coffee and a phone call to my office to tell them I wasn't coming in, I drove back home and gathered the troops. Chas stayed behind to finish working out -- yeah, I know, he's one of those people who make me look bad EVERY DAY -- and I put the girls and a lot of books, crayons and toys into the car, and drove back to become a burden to my parents.

By mid-day the storm had slackened. The winds were downgraded to merely "strong," after having gusted at 60 or more miles per hour -- as high as 70 somewhere in the valley. Three of our neighbor's willow trees were flattened by the wind, and pieces of our garage siding were wrenched free. Half of our oranges blew off the trees, but that's not a big problem. Most of Glenn County was left without power, including Willows, which suffered near 100% power outage, and which will likely be dark for a few days. Power poles along I-5 from Orland to Willows were snapped off at the bases. We count ourselves lucky to have had our electricity restored late last night.

We were sitting pretty compared to some people, and as night fell, other than having the obvious problem of darkness, we were actually able to enjoy ourselves. Mom and I pooled our water and food resources, and we had everything we needed. I made chicken spaghetti and Mom made a big green salad, cooking by candlelight (which is challenging), and we dined by candlelight as well, joined by our friend Marge, who was in the same boat.

Bedtime came early since there was no point in sitting in the dark quietly freezing, and, other than one round of Smedley barfing due to an upset stomach, and one protracted Sparky coughing attack, all was well. We woke up to electricity, but no heat -- our propane tank is empty, unfortunately, so until the truck shows up -- Monday? I hope -- we are driving each other crazy in one room with a space heater.

And that was The Great Storm of Ought Eight, dadgummit.