I have just spent the last hour turning on and off light switches, standing in front of heater vents, and opening faucets. After four days without power in freezing weather, I do not take any of these things for granted. There should be a service in the prayer book for occasions such as these: “O God of the burning bush, we praise you for the return of heat and light. O God of streams in the wilderness, we thank you for the gift of flowing water.”
It started out as the first light, fluffy snow of the season, which even the animals seemed to enjoy. My Jack Russell terrier ran along the ground with her mouth open, making her own snow cones, while the horses pawed small, exploratory holes in the white stuff to make sure their pasture was still underneath. The llamas were as happy as pigs in mud. They come to life in cold weather, which must remind them—at least genetically—of the Andes. They were built for the cold. It is the heat they cannot stand.