It’s been a nasty week here at the old poetry farm. I got knocked on my ass by some flu-like thing just as we were getting our first good snow fall of the season. 17 inches is pretty normal around here, but this was real wet and real heavy.
That means the trees bend and sag, and in the process, take down these old New England power lines. So Wednesday afternoon, we along with about 300,000 other New Hampshire homes lost our power. That meant no electric, no heat, no water.
So many trees and lines were down that most roads were impassable. We have about 600 very tall trees on our property, and the birches, being the most fragile, bent over in perfect, low, snow covered arches across my driveway. About half of its 1,000 curling feet looks like a tunnel. And on top of that my plow man’s vehicle broke down.
Jan and I were hunkered down like a couple of dog sledders dressed for the Iditarod. In our 10 years here, this is the first time we lost power for more than a few hours. My youngest daughter and family live in the next town from us, but they also are in the dark.
And I do believe it’s all because of politics. Seriously. For our first 8 years in this home, our governor was a neighbor, and I believe that fact somehow gave our area an unspoken top priority for restoration of power. Alas, our current governor lives elsewhere, so this time we just had to wait our turn like all the other good citizens of the Live Free or Die state. I guess accidental privilege can’t last forever.
Well, we just got power back a little while go and, boy oh boy, am I ever thankful – it’s 2 degrees tonight. And I’m feeling better, too, thank God. But as to Thanksgiving Day itself – well – there’s always next year.
Hope all of you, my friends, had a blessed and happy (and warm) day.