How to Survive and Thrive When the Power is Out

Lessons of a Long Winters Night Back in my younger days I lived in a forested outback in the middle of nowhere, alone. For a full year, just me and a very large yellow Lab named Gus. We lived on a 40 acre parcel in the wilds of Michgians' Upper Peninsula, 2 miles from the nearest neighbor. This one year of memories will carry me through the rest of my life. It was a wonderful learning experience for a gal of 43 at the time. My first night out here in the woods in my one room tar paper shanty, I lay awake in my bed with a flashlight in one hand and the blanket pulled up to my chin with the other. I listened to all the night sounds of late winter/ early spring, like mice in the ceiling and walls playing a midnight game of tag. I even imagined I could hear the spiders scratching across the walls as they moved from one area to the next. Oh, that chewing sound! Where the heck was that coming from? Dear Gus was of no help, he slept soundly and oblivious to my self-inflicted peril. Something was actually chewing on my tiny wooden home! What's that noise? Listen! There it is again! My makeshift cabin had been used as a hunting camp in its' previous life and had sat empty for a dozen years prior to my purchase. As a rule back then hunting camps in the U.P. rarely came with electricity, as mine had none. So, living out in the big woods without any place to plug in a radio or TV leaves one with plenty of time, which brings me to the point of this story. When the power is out, IT IS QUIET! The constant buzz of human activity, technology and traffic noise are so natural that one doesn't notice until the plug has been pulled and it all stops. The senses are at first relieved. It doesn't take long before you begin to feel noise withdrawal, much like the anxiety of cigarette withdrawal. Then night comes, the stillness of the true lightless night becomes the monster in the closet of our childhood. My first long winter night played with the stillness of my snow covered wilderness. I suddenly became acutely aware that moon light uses shadows as an accomplice; it tricks the imagination into seeing beasts stalking the darkness. I called these beasts "hide-behinds." Elusive mystical creatures without true form, created purely from my own imagination hiding behind leafless hardwoods. The muted flickering of the oil lamp demanded entrance into this playful party, while the icy stillness crept up and stole away with my remaining confidence. Thus, the thieving stillness and ones' own fear are the winners of the deafening silent night time games. Twenty years have come and gone since my first night time encounter with the hide-behinds deep in my forest. My tiny cabin hovel has given way to a respectable cottage and the mice have almost all moved out. The oil lamps have been replaced by electric lights and the outhouse is no more. Modern appliances and a bathroom have made the new cottage quite livable as well as a little added technology. The night time hide-behinds have been chased away from their moon lit shadows by a husband now. Life in the woods and living close to nature has bestowed on me a personal confidence that I could not have achieved any other way. The lesson here, I can say with first hand knowledge. When faced with a challenge, when there is only you left to deal with the night time creatures, it will amaze your very soul how well you can actually manage your own shadowy creatures during your first encounter with the night time silence.