I C E P O C A L Y P S E

The wind whistled down from Antarctica and Canada and brought a massive cold front, middle and back with it. Record-breaking cold. Cold so cold (chorus: How cold was it?) that you had to break the smoke from the chimney. So damn cold (How cold was it?) so cold that we had to chop up the piano for firewood—but we only got two chords. This weather event broke all the Kansas City records since 1889. All of them. The Wise Acres barn was built in 1890 and this is the coldest winter it’s ever seen.

That’s not all I learned from Icepocalypse. I learned to lie to Ferrellgas in the future about propane “keep-full” because I put in an order on February sixth and they’ve not shown yet. Today is the 20th and the level is dangerously low. From now on I tell them I need a fill at 50%. Their customer service is a cold joke all by itself. A series of recordings devised by Josef Mengele informs you alternately, that your Ferrellgas team is excited to serve you, and a tired male voice says something about the weather. I can imagine the excitement in my behalf. I can see the “team” jostling for a chance to talk to me, fighting over it. “let me, let me.” No one ever answers.

And I learned not to be hostage to a rusting, outmoded fragile bunch of power grids. Though Evergy did pretty well with conserving power blocks and rolling outages. But we’re looking at a 22.5 Kw Generac now. That would keep us going through a “weather event” or too many birds on the wire. Out here, every time you hear thunder it’s time to hunt up the lanterns.

Seriously, hostage no more. Costs would include a concrete pad for the unit, a propane fill if I can find a company that’s capable of doing it, the unit itself, an automatic smart switch, and the electrician to hook it all up. Then, when lights flicker, on goes the unit, Netflix isn’t even interrupted. Summer, the unit would shed AC if and when it became too much of a draw, but that’s acceptable. Winter it would keep Wise Haus cozy. I’m on it. So are a lot of other people. But a couple of 55 degree days (coming right up) and most of those will forget about it. Me, I’m a comfort hound, with some bulldog in the pedigree.

Books. I may be reading more during Bubonic times. And I took a Billy Collins course that got me all iambic and note-taking, thanks to a Masterclass subscription F gave me last year. It did broaden my scope in poetry, and poetry is a fine thing to mix into nonfiction and fiction. I got another round of Masterclass for Christmas, and I’m looking at a Roxanne Gay course, among others. She’s bad ass and a word priestess.

Just read in a collection of essays about a bamboo species that blossoms once every hundred years. And that goes for plants in Indonesia or a greenhouse in Michigan. They are all connected. Nature, man. F informs me that was a plot point in “Crazy Rich Asians,” that the wedding was to be held where and when a bamboo forest was to bloom in its 100-year cycle. Two more books I’m reading now: Regular Haunts, New and Previous Poems, Gerald Costanzo, is somewhat breathtaking and deserves a slow, careful read. As the author says, “When I first heard about America, it was already too late.” Let that sink into ya noggin. Another is Small-Time by Russ Shorto. Another good one. About a small town’s version of The Mob. I had to buy it new as I couldn’t wait for it to “mature” into used paperbacks. (Russ Shorto is the Americanization of the Sicilian name Rosario Sciotto)

The wind is blowing out of the south.The horrible Icepocalypse is slinking back up north. And covid vaccines are slowly becoming available. Be optimistic. Breathe. Visualize. Hydrate.  G