Saturday Morning – December 21, 2014
I woke up in the middle of the night, chilled to the bone. I grabbed the layers of clothes I had taken off earlier, and they felt like ice. I put them in bed with me for about five minutes to warm them up, and all I could think of was my screaming bladder. Finally, when the clothes had warmed up, I put them on, slipped my feet into my moccasins, and trudged to the restroom. The cool front had apparently finally made it’s way through the Ozarks.
I got back in bed, and snuggled up to Bud. He is always nice and warm. I was hoping that I could fall back asleep quickly, because I was exhausted. As I lay there, I was consumed with thoughts of how I could cook something for breakfast. I thought of putting bread on a fork and holding it over the burner on the camp stove to toast it, but didn’t think that would work. I also thought of maybe cooking something in foil, like those little campfire packets you make when you go camping, but I thought while it works great over coals of a campfire, it might not work too well over a camp stove burner. I thought and I thought. Then, I came up with an idea that I thought might work: Cooking crumbled pan sausage in the crockpot, and adding in the eggs when the sausage was done. The sausage would take a while to cook. It was 2:00 a.m., and so it would have to be put in there soon. As I was trying to talk myself into prying myself off of Bud’s warm body and into the cold again, I fell asleep.
I woke up later to sounds of the apocalypse. The whole house was shaking and rumbling. I sat there frozen for a minute or two and then I realized it was just thunder. (Nope, it wasn’t TEOTWAWKI yet.) There is nothing like the sound of a thunderstorm booming and reverberating through the mountains…especially when it doesn’t wake you out of dead sleep. My bladder was calling again, but I was so exhausted, I soon fell back asleep to the sound of rain tapping on the tin roof.
Finally, when my bladder could take it no more, I got up again, and this time I started the coffee pot, which I had set up the night before. It was still dark. I heard Bud stirring in the other room, and he soon appeared in the living room, looking worse for the wear. I could tell he’d had a rough night, too, by the look of his puffy eyes, and the way one side of his hair was mashed down flat to his head, and the other was sticking up.
I like ambient light, and was just sitting in the Living Room with the light from the kitchen streaming in, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. When Bud turned on the light in the living room to plug in the space heater, we noticed that there was a leak in the roof coming down on the living room floor.
We mopped it up, got a bucket and put it underneath the leak. Bud later went up into the attic and discovered that the rain was leaking in by the chimney for the wood stove, and traveling to the middle of the living room ceiling. Bud said he would call the Roofing Business owned by the people down the road later on our way to Harrison.
Bud, thoughtful man that he is, packed our rocking chairs, which he set up in the Living Room. We tied back the curtains, wrapped ourselves up in our throws, then we rocked and drank our coffee while we watched the morning slowly wake up to a dreary drizzle.
When it was light enough, I got dressed and took some food and water out to the hens. They wanted OUT, since they had been cooped up in a cage so long on the drive up there the day before, so I let them out.
I put their food in the hen house, and turned on the heat lamp. I’d left it off last night before the cool front blew through.
Corla wasn’t sure she wanted to go out into that drizzly mess.
We had heard that there were flash flood warnings for the area. The rain came down steadily, and continued all day. As I mentioned in the last post, we had never seen the stream coming out from the spring this high before.
In spite of the rain, we knew we had to go to Harrison to get some pans to cook on, so we made preparations to leave, drove to the top of the hill, and Bud called the Propane people. We didn’t want to leave and miss them when they came. We knew we were going to get an even colder front soon, and we needed more ample heat than our space heaters could provide.
The Propane guy said if they came, it would be after 3:00 p.m. He also told Bud that they were expecting 2-3 inches of rain for the area.
With a sense of urgency, we headed down the gravel road toward Harrison.