When the Homily is about Immunology

Wind, Water, and Darkness

As if we have not seen enough crappy weather, another storm rolled through yesterday bring another exceptional amount of rain and some fairly strong winds. I'd stayed home from work because of an odd eye ailment - fearing pink eye or something I'd decided it would be best not to share that with my coworkers or - worse yet - with some of the immune compromised patients. It ended up being somewhat fortuitous that I did stay home.

Rade called around lunchtime to report that up at Port Hadlock they were seeing 60mph gusts, 3 foot white caps in the bay, and already a boat capsized and sunk. With little hope of power being restored to the school he expected he be home early. When I hung up, my first thought was about the Hood Canal bridge - a floating bridge between us and him that suffers frequently from closures whenever high winds present themselves. As it turned out, these closures would haunt Rade today.

Winds were not too bad at our place yet, but the rain had been coming in buckets since well before dawn. However, within an hour or so of Rade's call the winds REALLY picked up and I watched with some concern as the tall trees swayed in the wind - anchored weakly by greatly water saturated ground.

The power finally gave way at around 3pm. My wife set up the portable power source for the chickens and when that finally gave up we set up temporary housing for them around the woodstove and Killick was overjoyed to have them present for his viewing pleasure.

Within an hour it was getting pretty dark and the answer to our question about water was answered. Had we our own private well there would not have been a question, but being on a community well owned by a company we wondered if they might not have an emergency generator in the pump house for such situations (Community wells are more highly regulated by the county than private ones). I reckon we should have confirmed because within an hour the water flowed no more.

We had long talked about having to stockpile a supply of water, but we just never got around to it. And as it was growing darker, it was becoming apparent that our meager collection of flashlights was not going to be sufficient. So, my eye feeling better already, I was sent out with Kelsey to go forage for supplies.

On our way out, we noticed a tree resting upon the powerlines along our road. In Poulsbo the power was spotty, one store would be closed and the one just up the road would be fine. So we assembled a collection of lighting products and some water, grabbed some dinner, and headed back home through the pouring windblown rain.

Drinking water is not a problem, but cleaning water and toilet flushing water is something you quickly begin to miss. I gathered as much water as I could from various buckets in the yard and this allowed us a couple of much needed flushes. The ability to collect and store rainwater has suddenly become a worthy project to look into. It never occurred to me to pull water from the hot water tank, a blunder my rural coworker made known to me this morning.

As is often the case in our home, things were hectic and it was amplified all the more it seemed by the darkness. The unusual changes of our routine seemed to set some of the kids on an emotional edge while for others it was an exciting joy. We ate (Joe would throw it up) and then got out my guitar to sing songs while the younger kids mostly danced or wrestled - who could tell the difference? Pajamas were afterwards distributed and then some stories were read. Lighting products were then divied up according to need and the three younger ones were escorted off to bed. Astonishingly enough, they all were sound asleep in what seemed to me to be record time.

Kelsey and I experienced the "The Ride of the Rohirrim" and then she was sent away to bed. Sue, her Mom, Aunt Carol, and myself then sat quietly at the dining room table. Sue and I thumbed through the Cabelas Christmas catalog by candlelight with the romantic background music of the crackiling fire, the chicks peeping (with Killick standing watch), and the distant humm of a neighbor's generator. Yes, this is the beginning of the trials former suburbanites must endure in order to learn if they are truly up to rural living.