by Greg Koelker
At 4:30 one morning recently, I was rudely shaken out of bed by a fullisade. Ma Nature was putting on a light show, complete with shock-and-awe. I stumbled my way out to the kitchen and grabbed my glasses and cell. I discovered our chief of security snoring in front of the La-Z-Boy. I thought about turning on the coffee maker but didn’t. I turned on the TV to check the baseball scores and the weather. I turned on my reading lamp and picked up my most recent read, The Fire Agent by David Baerwald. (I think this is an exciting, beautifully written, and well-researched historical fiction – think Ken Follett or Tom Clancy, maybe. It is a spy novel full of intrigue and discovery, a breathtaking war story, a surprising POW story, a love story, and more set in the first half of the 20th century, mostly in Europe and Asia.)
When I woke up again, my light was out. I reached for the remote control to let it do its magic – nothing. It’s startling to be in the boonies in almost total darkness. The yard light was out; the kitchen night light was out; nuttin’ honey. There was no Wi Fi. NO AC! I went outside with Bo to do our business in a sprinkle. I used my cell phone flashlight to find my Maglite. The landline did have a signal, so I called the power company and left a message.
At first light, we ate a banana, drank juice, and had a bowl of Raisin Bran with milk. Something was definitely missing, so we drove down to Stoddard with hope in our hearts that they had power. Hurray! At Kwik Trip, we got two Yeti mugs full of dark roast.
Back at the ranch, we sipped our coffee in a quiet that I kind of like, but still, it can irk some when NOTHING turns on. I finally rustled up some fresh batteries for the kitchen boombox. We had sound. WPR mentioned the storms but didn’t report who was without power. I guess we already knew anyway.
The lights were back on by 8:50. We high-fived, and I immediately turned on the coffee maker. I heard later that a tree had come down on the power lines.
Let me just say again, when I think of whatever is on my things to be thankful for list, besides the obvious, I include the power company people who risk life and limb, coming out in all kinds of miserable weather to get the juice flowing again, the town road crew who keep the road open, the county police, the Stoddard/Bergen volunteer fire department, and EMT’s who answer when needed. Thank you all.
I just got back in from a bike ride up on Chipmunk Ridge to Hamburg Ridge out to St. Peter’s Church Hamburg along County K. The crops look beautiful. The views of the coulees to the north and south are stunning. Yes, it’s an eBike. I’m 74. I probably couldn’t do this ride otherwise. That said, my legs are exhausted.
Until next time, get out – the only thing worth grousing about is the All-Star game snub of Brewers second baseman, Brice Turang. That just doesn’t add up. Oh well, we’ll snub the All-Star game, I guess.
Pray for peace.
Greg Koelker is a lifelong resident of the Driftless region along the Mississippi River. He is the acclaimed author of the “Grouse Hollow Journal,” a column that celebrates rural life, nature, family heritage, and the traditions that bind communities together. While technically focused on the “outdoors,” his writing often explores broader themes of community values and education.
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