At that time when night starts tipping into morning, in the mostly quiet hours, I was awake and listening to our old gas furnace churn and blaze. That furnace lives deep in the cluttered basement, an aged beast. It’s as big as a rest stop stall, big as a walk-in freezer. It’s a massive metal box with an octopus of dirty arms housed in a dark corner, marked with orange stickers, like the travel stickers on an old-fashioned vaudeville trunk, only instead of Niagra Falls these stickers read “DANGER,” and “EXPLOSIVE HAZARD” and “ASPHYXIATION”. Why do we have such a dangerous mess below the house, keeping our rooms warm?
Painfully cold and snow on the ground for several days. Just enough snow that I cant get up my steep driveway. As of yesterday, we are back to cold, dark, grey rain. I ordered some long overdue goloshes. Walking down a snowy hill in dress boots is very much like skiing. At least Ill be able to navigate the mud better, and can bring proper attire to help my raw grass fed milk farmer friend next time.
Glad you solved the problem and didnt fall.
The upside of ice storms is that everything looks like its made of crystal. The world becomes very dream like. Its gorgeous.
I can't wait for the essay class to start next month. I am really looking forward to it. While you were are snowed in down in Portland I was meeting writers in Seattle.
I also got invited to another workshop in February so that should be exciting. Maybe between all these classes and workshop I'll learn a few new things.
Great essay, Monica. You really captured the terror and helplessness. In Iowa we get this sort of weather once a year, so most things are built for it, but when I lived in Portland there was an ice storm that sent cars sliding backward in rhe west hills (though I have a fond memory of sliding through the cemetery with my then-six-year-old daughter, I also remember I was wearing my climbing crampons).
I especially enjoyed the furnace and its ticking timb bomb vibe. It brought to mind Stephen King's Overlook which also featured hissing monster with too much pressure.
I'm glad you're safe and that it's warming up. Be careful out there!
Damn, that was wonderful. Glad you made it through! We had no such harrowing moments, just our lights flickering and threatening us. We turned most everything off, leaving on just our Christmas tree, the heater, and the TV. The first time I left the house, everything was still ice, though. I was shocked. I skated everywhere, using my cane like trekking pole. It broke some of the ice up, but damned if my shoulder didn't hate me by the end. Happy that things have melted now, though.
Being the nighttime guardian for a house is a solemn duty. I've gone out into torrential rains at night to dig trenches to divert rain from the basement. (Coming back in the house as a muddy mess.)
Hopefully, the ground hog tell us winter is short?
Oh, Monica, this made me laugh. Having lived through the very same ice storm, I relate entirely. There was no purchase to be found! I'm glad you made it through and saved your furnace and wrote this fabulous story. Love you!
Painfully cold and snow on the ground for several days. Just enough snow that I cant get up my steep driveway. As of yesterday, we are back to cold, dark, grey rain. I ordered some long overdue goloshes. Walking down a snowy hill in dress boots is very much like skiing. At least Ill be able to navigate the mud better, and can bring proper attire to help my raw grass fed milk farmer friend next time.
Glad you solved the problem and didnt fall.
The upside of ice storms is that everything looks like its made of crystal. The world becomes very dream like. Its gorgeous.
Gosh that was a fun read. I'm glad you survived.
I can't wait for the essay class to start next month. I am really looking forward to it. While you were are snowed in down in Portland I was meeting writers in Seattle.
I also got invited to another workshop in February so that should be exciting. Maybe between all these classes and workshop I'll learn a few new things.
Great essay, Monica. You really captured the terror and helplessness. In Iowa we get this sort of weather once a year, so most things are built for it, but when I lived in Portland there was an ice storm that sent cars sliding backward in rhe west hills (though I have a fond memory of sliding through the cemetery with my then-six-year-old daughter, I also remember I was wearing my climbing crampons).
I especially enjoyed the furnace and its ticking timb bomb vibe. It brought to mind Stephen King's Overlook which also featured hissing monster with too much pressure.
I'm glad you're safe and that it's warming up. Be careful out there!
Damn, that was wonderful. Glad you made it through! We had no such harrowing moments, just our lights flickering and threatening us. We turned most everything off, leaving on just our Christmas tree, the heater, and the TV. The first time I left the house, everything was still ice, though. I was shocked. I skated everywhere, using my cane like trekking pole. It broke some of the ice up, but damned if my shoulder didn't hate me by the end. Happy that things have melted now, though.
Wonderful read.
Being the nighttime guardian for a house is a solemn duty. I've gone out into torrential rains at night to dig trenches to divert rain from the basement. (Coming back in the house as a muddy mess.)
Hopefully, the ground hog tell us winter is short?
Oh, Monica, this made me laugh. Having lived through the very same ice storm, I relate entirely. There was no purchase to be found! I'm glad you made it through and saved your furnace and wrote this fabulous story. Love you!
Bizarrely, we did fine just an hour away. But I drove through the city last week and it was eerie.
The metal box octopus reminded me of the spooky creatures I imagined in my parents’ basement when I was young.
We’ve had so much freezing rain and ice this year in Canada that the ‘purchase’ problem is often on my mind.
Thanks for sharing that, and I’m looking forward to the essay class as well.