Hurricane Samhain
October 29, 2012
Tags: family farming, radical homemaking, Tuesday Post

Our Samhain Altar will hopefully be lit each night this week, in spite of the hurricane.
This week’s Tuesday Post is appearing early as we ready ourselves for Hurricane Sandy. If technology allows, I’ll post updates as we work our way through the storm this week. For everyone else in her path, please stay safe!

Hurricane Irene was a shock. Hurricane Lee, only 1 week later, was a freakish incident. But now, as the winds begin to stir around the house and we brace ourselves for hurricane Sandy, it’s clear to me that what we’re facing is a new weather pattern.

We’ve done our best to prepare. We winterized the bees, staked down the hives, cleared away the patio furniture. We caught up on laundry and bathing. We split enough kindling for the week, and filled the spaces beside the woodstove and masonry stove with firewood. Down at the farm, Grammie and Pop Pop found plywood sheets for the living room windows. We brought all the livestock in out of the pastures, and secured the turkeys in the new barn (built in response to last year’s hurricanes). We discussed where everyone would be safest. Grammie and Pop Pop will stay at the farm near the livestock, we’ll stay at our home with the kids, where we have a cellar that can be accessed from indoors. The bath tub has been filled, along with an additional 12 gallons of water in glass jars for drinking, a few giant stock pots for cooking water, a few five gallon buckets for spare water. Oil lamps are out on the kitchen table, candles along the kitchen counter. Flashlights, batteries, wind-up radio, cell phone and even a brand new ipad with a wireless internet pay-as-you-go plan are in an emergency electronics bag beside the basement stairs, along with sleeping bags, a piss bucket, wet wipes, extra warm clothes, medical supplies, water in steel bottles, non-perishable food, more candles, a few novels to read to the kids, a drawing and coloring kit, and one comfort item for each member of the family: Saoirse’s stuffed Froggy, Ula’s stuffed beaver Buckskin, my knitting basket with my journal tucked inside, Bob’s guitar. If the winds get too bad up here on our mountain, we’re headed for the cellar.

Once everything on our preparedness list was checked off, we readied for Samhain. I pulled the last of the beets and carrots from the garden (I’d hate to lose them if it floods at the farm), we cleared a space to make an altar with antlers, mums, skulls, pumpkins and squash, one remaining enormous zucchini, a small pot of this year’s honey, felted animals, the last of the tomatoes and peppers, candles from our beef tallow, and pictures of our loved ones who have moved on. I made a stew using something from every animal on the farm. Bob and the girls lashed together a Crohn from asparagus fronds and grape vines. Grammie and Pop Pop finished their preparations and came to join us.

The most fitting thing we could think to do as we stared down this unknown threat looming on the horizon was to spend the evening together in ceremony and prayer. We made special meals for our pets: Spriggy and Dusky got stew for dinner (Ramona the cat eschewed the stew, but helped herself to the buttercream frosting on the pumpkin cupcakes when we weren’t looking). We set out pictures of our family members who have gone before us. We poured home-pressed cider on the garden, scattered cupcakes in the woods for the birds, wildlife and the fairies. We asked them to stay safe. We gave thanks for the animals who gave their lives for our benefit, for our ancestors who watch over us, for the friends who have passed on. We gave thanks for the harvest. We raised our glasses to our ancestors, and asked them to watch over us in the coming days. We kissed and hugged each other goodbye, revisited our plans for communicating if and when lines go down, then tucked ourselves into bed to wait.

It is early Monday morning as I write this. I step outside to take the puppy for a brief walk, and the ominous silence, broken only by the unsettling swirl of the wind, makes her run back for the door in fear. I suspect there will be a few puddles and other surprises on my floor to reckon with in the coming days. I push that thought aside. As we go into this storm, half of me is focused on making sure my family is safe. The other half is focused on gratitude. This year’s hurricane has come later. The leaves are off the trees, a summer drought has lowered our water levels considerably, making room for sudden flow. For many of us, the harvest is in. I do not know what the coming days will bring, and I cannot claim to be ready for anything. But as we navigate our way through the wind and water, I hope to remain centered by the grace we’ve had in our lives, which warms the walls of this house as we continue to celebrate Samhain through this hurricane.
Comments
October 29, 2012 8:33 AM EDT
What a beautiful blog, and such a perfect counterpoint to what everyone else is saying and doing. Wanted to make it up to Sap Bush yesterday but prep got in the way…let your folks know we did not forget! Prayers and protection going to your family and the creatures under your care. We are all in this together.
– Joellyn Kopecky
October 29, 2012 9:10 AM EDT
Amen. A beautiful post to begin this journey. Thank you.
– Roseanna DeMaria
October 29, 2012 9:28 AM EDT
Be safe, friends. I couldn’t bear to lose any of you! (Also, I used to celebrate Samhain with the boys when they were young. Perhaps it is a tradition that Kurt and I should consider bringing to this home. What a lovely thought!)
– Paula McConnell
October 29, 2012 9:32 AM EDT
Blessed Be…
– Pamela & Loren
October 29, 2012 11:15 AM EDT
Wonderful post and prudent preparations! I’ll be thinking of you and your family this week, senting positive vibes your way…..
– Grammomsblog
October 29, 2012 12:40 PM EDT
Thank you for the lovely post, Shannon. Your description of how you’ve prepared for Sandy–body and soul–is such a warm reminder of how to do our best as the weather and world becomes increasingly unpredictable.

I just wrote a blog post this week entitled, “transition,” that you might enjoy, should you have access to the web for a while: http://www.lunasolfarm.com/bigmamasblog

It’s about preparing for the unexpected on an inward level. I hope it is in some way helpful.

With prayers for your family and community,
– Anna Alkin
October 30, 2012 3:43 AM EDT
Our persistence in relying on fossil fuels as the engine for our economy continues to add greenhouse gasses to the atmosphere we breathe. All the individual, and seemingly small choices we make every day, accumulate as we go. Sunshine, trapped by this foggy lense, has warmed our oceans and the air that swirls around us. As a society we can choose to ignore their root cause and even debate the causality of the severe storms and droughts forecast to be increasingly frequent. But we can’t choose to ignore their disruptive power. Living in a constantly reactive, emergency mode is debilitating and consumes our attention. Never have self-reliant and sustainable households ever been more important to us. Let’s be more thoughtful in our choices and mind how we go.
– Luther Green, Preserving Community
November 2, 2012 12:52 PM EDT
Great post, also like Luther’s comment. Down in southeastern PA we got Sandy rather in the teeth, and out in the country are likely to be off the grid for a while yet due to downed trees and power lines. Other than the occasional downed tree damage everyone’s homes are OK and the worst losses are spoiled food in fridges and freezers. We are so lucky, but most of my neighbors are suffering anyway. If everyone had prepared as you did there would be far less stress for the millions who are basically ok, just out of grid electricity. Our family’s worst experience was having no cell service for over 24 hours because the towers were out of service which prevented us from knowing my DH’s son was in the ER (not storm-related and he is now fine).
Through this one thing that has struck me, not for the first time, is our societal addiction to heated living spaces. Outdoor temps have been in the 40s and high 30s so noones pipes are in danger, but people’s biggest complaint seems to be how cold they are because the indoor temp is 60s or high 50’s. Since we are cheap and environmentally conscious that’s where we keep our thermostat during the day in the winter (it goes lower at night) so this seems pretty normal to us and we have an advantage. (During the coldest months we keep one room slightly warmer and turn heat on in the bathroom before bathing, and most importantly we know how to dress for the temperature.) But I am reminded that few people know how to dress when the air temp drops below 68 anymore, and — perhaps worse — believe that having a summer-temperature indoor space year-round is a basic human need and right. We need to teach people to insulate themselves first! High quality winter underwear costs far less in money and environmental impacts than insulating and retrofitting our homes and heating every cubic indoor inch of space. Even inexpensive cotton longies and sweats can be layered to keep one warm and comfy in dry, wind-free spaces. A a society we are in need of a major mind shift about indoor space heating.
– Jean Nick
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