Late March in south-central Ontario is a treacherous time. The first flowers struggle into bloom – snowdrops emerge from snowbanks, crocuses open in a brief ray of sunlight – only to be beaten down by the return of cold weather. Despite a record-breaking mild winter, this spring has brought the usual see-saw of thaw and freeze, and wintry storms.
On March 24th the temperature remained a few degrees below freezing, and on top of two inches of snow fallen the previous day, icy rain began to steadily fall. It continued to rain, freezing on contact, all day. The air was eerily still, with no hint of wind, and ice coated every surface exposed to the sky, drips formed icicles. By mid-afternoon, ice accumulation began to stress trees and shrubs, weighing down horizontal branches past breaking point. At 6 p.m. the power went out.
Alone in the house, following the instructions my DH had written up for such a situation, I opened the garage door for ventilation, started-up the generator, and switched over the circuits for the furnace, refrigerator, well pump, sludge pump, and sump pump. Not sure how much gas was in the generator, I decided to run it for about an hour every three or four hours. I set my alarm for 4 a.m., and went to bed at midnight, with the freezing rain still falling. The frequent crack-crash-thud noises of branches and trees falling made it difficult to sleep.
Overnight, the outdoor temperature dropped to minus 4C/24F and the precipitation turned to snow shortly before it stopped. In the morning, the power was still off, and I continued to run the generator periodically. A breeze sprang up, and more trees and branches fell. Night came, the sky cleared, moonlight reflected off the ice, and the temperature plunged to minus 10C/14F. Very tired, I went to bed at 11 p.m. At 4 a.m. I got up to start the generator and discovered I had left it too late: the sump in the basement had brimmed over and begun to flood the utility room. I got the generator started and the sump pump began to remove the water, but just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, the generator stopped working. It had run out of gas.
I needed to fetch the spare can of gas from the barn. Crossing the icy yard, flashlight in hand, and avoiding walking beneath trees, I made it safely to the barn and found the gas can. It weighed so much, I could hardly lift it. Lugging the can to the garage on the far side of the house took me some time. I then had difficulty holding the heavy can above the generator to fill the tank, my arms wobbling so much that I spilled gas. Eventually, I emptied the can into the tank, and restarted the generator. Disaster averted!
Once the sump was drained and the house heated, I turned the generator off again, but I could not close up the garage because of the fumes from the gas I had spilled. I wedged a log of firewood under the garage door, leaving about a 4-inch gap, and retired once more to my bed. About half-an-hour later, I heard noises and got up to investigate. When I went from the house into the garage, I confronted a large raccoon that was trying to get my garbage can open. He had already rummaged through the recycling boxes, tossing papers, cans, and bottles onto the garage floor. We appraised each other for a few seconds, with him in a defensive posture (standing sideways, back arched like a cat, to look as big as possible), but when I shouted, “Out! Out!” and clapped my hands, he ran off. I exchanged the log propping up the door for a plank only 1 inch thick.
Next morning, the sun was shining, but the power was still off. Every time I phoned the power company, I got either the busy signal or a recorded message that they were reconnecting big population centers first and sparsely populated areas would be last. Guess what sort of area I live in! I risked a drive into town. The roads had been cleared of tree debris, and the gas station had power. I refilled the spare gas tank and picked up some groceries. In the afternoon, I took a look around the garden and the pond. Nearly every tree and bush showed damage, with branches detached or hanging by a strip of bark. The willows around the pond looked as if they had been stripped by an explosion. A large Manitoba maple had toppled, but luckily only onto grass. I did not venture into the woods, but based on what I had been hearing, I could imagine the carnage.
The day went by, and evening drew in. I kept running the generator on and off, lit candles to read by, and mentally prepared for another sleepless night. Then - wonder of wonders! – at 8:40 p.m. the electric clock on the kitchen stove lit up. After an outage of 50 hours, power had been restored.
Discussions:
| Thread Title | Last Reply | Replies |
|---|---|---|
| Ice storm by LysmachiaMoon | Mar 31, 2016 5:41 AM | 1 |
Post a new thread about this blog entry:
