Ten Writers, Very Cold

All was well until the wind storm began. Howling ’round the eaves, screaming ’round the corners, causing mighty ponderosa to sway like seaweed in the tide.

Dropping limbs, causing landslides.

And knocking out our power, from Wednesday afternoon on. No lights, no heat, no internet. No refrigeration. No way to cook food, no way to read in the dark, or critique.

As darkness came on half were huddled under blankets. Since everything was blacked out, we headed down the mountain to Taos for a restaurant dinner, and one car, having lost its oilpan to fallen rocks, didn’t make it back.

We crawled back up the mountain, encountering a couple trucks from Taos Rural Electric Cooperative along the road.

We had flashlights, we had candles. Food satiation and wine failed to raise spirits. A glorious starscape, unimpeded by village lighting, failed to keep us from freezing our butts off whenever we looked at it.

No electricity came by night. In the morning I shifted critical foodstuffs to the freezer, which was still reasonably cold. Then went down the mountain in company, to buy ice and have a warm breakfast.

When I returned, the Rural Electric Cooperative had done its stuff. Heat, refrigeration, and hot water restored! Showers possible! Spirits improved! Critiques scheduled for later, after margaritas!

The wind continues to blow, alas. Which means it could all be undone in an instant.

If we can just get through dinner, all will be well.