December 19, 2009

The snowfall remained gentle, but quite thick, and by eight twenty last night the power was off for the duration. It came back on about twenty minutes ago. Twelve hours. I slept as much as the intervening time as I could, rolled up in the comforter with the cats about me and candles flickering at strategic points in the house. I was morose and fatalistic. I do not handle such things well. The house is incredibly, disturbingly still without its hum of electronics. Rose long before dawn–after three it was-- put on all the clothing I thought I’d need, and headed out into the night. It was very beautiful, the streets aglow with the natural radiance of the snow, and absolutely, wondrously silent. Part of the silence was the recognition that no utility crews were at work, nor would they be until I saw them drive past me up Merrimon at about 8 this morning. Through the night the air had been filled periodically with green flashes, which one assumed were transformers here and there expiring in fire. I knocked the snow off my trees with a broom, then headed out to see if anything or anybody was astir. My swollen legs make boots impossible, so I must slog through all depths of snow and slush in my sneakers. Amazing how quickly freezing water warms up once it’s inside the shoe. The houses east of Merrimon had power, Christmas trees flickering insolently in windows. I walked from Mountain Java to the Shell Station at the expressway bridge looking for coffee, and there was none. Met figures moving like I was through the night street, figures trying to dig out their cars or assess the extent of the blackout or looking for sustenance, like refugees after some whitening holocaust. Two guys did a triple donut on Merrimon and then called to me “The Interstates are closed! We just made it in from Tennessee.” Dawn–visible mostly in the south as the east was clouded over-- came in delicate pinks and lavenders, like a great wall of spring flowers. I have shoveled DJ’s walk until my belly aches. I am going to sit a moment in the rooms where the heat’s turned up to high.