
Last Monday, snow started falling...on cedars and island roads. The white fluff fell from the sky for hours and hours. It eventually stopped and the wind took over. Strong winds which brought 50,000 people to a halt: lights out, electric stoves out, heating out - forget about charging your computer, your phone, forget about work, forget about staying up late past sunset: no more power.
Now, I've been on the island before when the power has gone out. It's quaint and fun for few hours...a "few hours" being key here. This power outage however quickly lost its charm, mostly due to the fact that the temperature dropped significantly, that we were short on wood, and that i actually am quite dependent on my computer. No way to make hot soup, no way to make tea, no warm showers possible - it quickly felt like camping, splashing freezing water on your face in the morning in an effort to maintain a certain level of hygiene. Hats and coats were worn inside. Beds were pushed together to capitalize on the body heat. Everything felt stopped. I tried to keep going, not wanting to allow my dependence on electricity to stop me from living - the way we live is such a luxury anyway and half of this planet has never known a life
with power - but strangely, i felt stuck; unable to get myself to do the little amount of work that i could actually do without being plugged in. We read out loud as a family, and did very little. An imposed break from our plugged-in lives, our plugged-in selves. A good reminder as well of the strength and kindess of communities - as friends of the family cared for us, bringing us food and wood and sharing the warmth of their propane powered homes with us.
I will continue to be thankful for a while everytime I step under a hot shower, wash the dishes in hot water, turn on the light.
A la demande de Fanny, voici quelques photos de cette aventure...

1. Le début...c'est charmant. Tout va bien. En plus, il fait beau, donc bon.

2. OK. Il fait froid. Mon père derrière en combinaison de ski quand même..

3. Presque 48 heures...allez! La folie s'installe dans nos corps gelés petit à petit..