High winds today, expecting the power will go out. Plenty more stored water throughout the house, but figure it couldn't hurt to filter a few gallons of drinking water to have at the ready. 

Winter slips away before we’ve had the chance to feel done with it. There is another month at least of snow and freezing temperatures ahead of us, and I am looking at three feet of snow on the ground, so there is time. But the noticeable change in light is evident, staying longer in the day, rising higher in the sky. We worked on firewood this weekend in long sleeve shirts - no coats - which felt liberating.

In the morning I wake with first light, which remains the single most valuable benefit I’ve given myself as a self-employed (retired homeschool mom empty nest) person. Okay, it’s really my only measurable employee benefit, but not a day passes that I do not give thanks for the absence of an alarm cock. I’m an early riser naturally, but to be without that incessant sound is a gift. I pull on some jeans and make my bed, brush teeth and wash my face. Then head downstairs where I put the kettle on for coffee and send Scout outside. I light the woodstove, pausing to feel the quiet possibility that is unique to early mornings. I watch the small flames quicken and move from kindling to logs. The water is almost ready. Coffee is poured; I rustle up something tasty to offer the chickens. They are early layers and it seems fair that I bring something delightful in trade for the eggs that I know are waiting for me. I wish we still had some of those fresh cranberries that I stocked up on at Thanksgiving, but they finished out those reserves sometime in January. What a fan favorite they were. Whatever odd combination I come up with, it’ll surely have a generous scoop of some type of animal protein or fat. With offering in hand, I step into my boots, throw on a couple of layers, and head outside to open the coop. Treats are served, water is replenished, eggs are collected. Scout and I wander around for a little while, but mostly he’s all sniffed and explored out by the time I get out there, and he’s ready to come back in. Or maybe it’s just that he’s come to expect this routine and simply falls in line, following me back to the house. Inside, coffee is finally ready and the woodstove providing deep warmth. I settle in beside the fire for a chapter in my book and a steaming mug of bliss.

I checked the weather this morning, which is not something I often do in the winter, but sugaring season is nigh and it is time to pay attention. To my surprise, high winds are moving in for tonight and tomorrow, which for us could easily mean a long power outage. I’m glad I checked, now I can run the vacuum, top off the laundry, bring in extra firewood, check our water stores, bake some bread, and get a big pot of something simmering for easy sustenance. 

I am working on a post about preparing cold and flu kits for the home that will be published here next week, if not sooner. Cold and flu supplies are something I like to have on hand before any sign of illness strikes, not when. I feel like I’d like to do a multi-part preparedness series but do not want to come across as one of those people, because I’m not. I think a lot of people miss the boat on preparedness, focusing on extreme (unlikely) scenarios at the expense of being equipped for handling everyday emergencies that will actually happen. Maybe it’s the Virgo in me, maybe it’s the nature of being self-employed and knowing how dependent I am on myself for everything, make it’s the way I was raised. I’m not really sure. I guess it just seems like good logic to be ready for the obvious events in life. 

As I finish up this post I am texting with my husband. His car just broke down on a Connecticut highway in the pouring rain. Died while traveling highway speed, no wipers, no anything. Thankfully there was an exit up ahead so he coasted off, and even more thankfully, there was a green light at the end of the exit so he was able to coast straight through into a parking lot, which is a great spot to land while waiting for roadside assistance. Isn't it funny to think what luck! as you sit there with a dead car in the pouring rain. How quickly our priorities right themselves. With him is a backpack filled with anything he might need to deal with a moment like this: water, calories (snack/meal bars + jerky), change of clothes and shoes as he’s generally wearing a suit and that’s not a good situation for dealing with a broken down car. He carries a bit more than that, too, but those are the kind of basics that provide peace of mind and comfort when a tow truck is one to two hours out. Especially if you have children in the car.

Anyway, my point is, zombies aren’t coming for you, but a broken down car on a pouring-rain-morning-traffic highway is. I would like to write more about being prepared for things like that.