Cold

Tuesday, November 23, 2010
I thought I would have to plow this morning, but the wind blew the snow away, along with the tarps on my hay, a cardboard box, the top off the horses’ oats, and for a short time, the power to the house. The weatherman promises single digit temperatures with a wind chill dipping it into the negative zone. Cold.

Last night, as the power flickered on and off, I dug out stubs of candles, matches, a flashlight, extra batteries and the kerosene lanterns. I filled up a jug of water and the teapot right before the power forced me into total darkness.

The wind sounded like it had a voracious appetite and I feared it would rip the roof off. Cholo curled beside me on the couch and the cats wrapped themselves around the base of the wood stove.

When we lived on Samuels Road, the power went out for 24 hours. Our pellet stove required electricity to generate heat, and it didn’t take long for the house to feel like the inside of a refrigerator. The next-door neighbors, who for some reason still had electricity, called and invited us over to spend the night. I drove DaNae and Nik over, it was that cold, but came home and bundled myself up in a sleeping bag and quilt. To the kids, it was an adventure; to me, one more thing on my plate to survive.

I plan to warm the house this afternoon by baking home made pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving dinner. I turned the three pumpkins I grew in Nik’s garden into pumpkin mush, and bought the ingredients from the grocery store yesterday afternoon.

DaNae and Nik grew up on Grandma’s pies, and she would grow pumpkins and render them into delicious pies that the kids drooled over. They would go over her house to help her bake, and would make sugar lollipops with their fingers. They took turns sifting, measuring, stirring and beating. She spoiled them, and they wouldn’t eat store bought pies or pumpkin pie made with canned filling.

When Nik lived in San Pedro, he carried on the tradition by making pumpkin pie for their Thanksgiving dinner. He called me for Grandma’s recipe, and I read off the ingredients and directions over our cell phones. They couldn’t find any pumpkins at the store, so he had to resort to canned filling. But he filled the pie with his love, and I was told it was delicious.

I bought Nik a Thanksgiving apron one year, and I will don it today in his honor. I will fill the pies with our love, coveting our traditions and his memory.