Bringing in the hay

It's hay time here in North Idaho.

To that end, we've been keeping an eye on the hay market for a good price. We were interested in about five tons to tide us over the winter. We ended up buying hay from the same farmer who sold us our first batch a couple years ago. There was a hitch, however; we would be required to load the bales from the field onto the farmer's truck.

Rather than killing ourselves by loading and stacking 125 80-lb. bales – common sense prevailed and we don't feel equal to the task at our ages – we capitulated and went for larger round bales. Hey, at least round bales can be moved with the tractor.

Last Friday, the farmer (whose name is Byron) brought in a big semi-truck loaded with round bales. He was delivering both to us and to another customer. His truck was far too big to maneuver up our narrow lower driveway to the front of the barn, however, which meant the bales had to be unloaded in our regular driveway in front of the house. We'll move them later at our leisure.

Ironically, Don and Byron talked about the weather shortly before Byron left his place to drive here (he lives about half an hour away). Don expressed concern because rain was expected, and wondered if we should put off delivery for a few days. Byron assured him it wasn't raining at his place, and since he had to make the delivery to his other customer anyway, it would certainly be easier to tackle both deliveries at once. We agreed, and set about moving the cars out of the driveway and making room for a semi-truck and a bunch of 600+ lb bales.

Byron arrived and then, literally – literally – the moment he got his truck backed into our driveway, the heavens opened and it poured.

It started with a good brisk hailstorm...

...then settled into a steady downpour. Byron was incredibly apologetic about the timing (as if he had anything to do with it!).

Don was able to offload the bales using the tractor, though he got soaked in the process.

Meanwhile a thunder cell was approaching, with lightning dancing no more than a half-mile away. We heard some of the LOUDEST thunder I've ever heard as an adult. Seriously, when I was a kid in New York State, we use to get incredible thunderstorms, the kind where children burrow under the covers and the whole house shakes. (True story: Lightning actually hit a neighbor's house one time, blowing a hole in the roof of their garage. That one scared even my dad!)

Yeah, it was that kind of thunderstorm we were experiencing as Don and Byron wrestled with the hay bales and I pulled out the biggest tarp I could find to cover them. At one point, a crack of thunder was so loud I clapped both hands over my ears. Whew!

Byron left, the thunderstorm cell passed by (though the rain continued), and since he was soaked anyway, Don took the time to stack the round bales in an orderly fashion so we could tarp them.

We kept the hay tarped for a couple more days until the threat of rain passed...

...then uncovered it to let it dry in the sun. We're keeping the hay untarped in dry weather to make sure no rot sets in, and periodically re-tarping it when rain threatens.

Bringing in the hay normally isn't this exciting. But, regardless, at least now we have the the livestock feed for the winter.

A year of testing

What follows is a stream-of-consciousness blog post on the events of 2020/2021 and general preparedness. Forgive me if I lurch from topic to topic without much logical progression.

It was almost exactly one year ago that Older Daughter and I took a quick trip to Seattle so she could interview with a nanny agency.

We returned home optimistic about her job prospects. Naturally we had no idea – none whatever – of what lay in store for the rest of the year. First the pandemic hit, then the economy tanked, then Seattle disintegrated into a hot mess of anarchy, then riots broke out all across the country, then shortages of everything from toilet paper to canning supplies occurred, then ... then ... then ...

We – the Lewis family – also had a lot of changes during 2020, not least of which we moved away from our beloved home of 17 years and settled into a new and smaller place. Older Daughter peeled off and got an apartment on her own and is working two jobs. Younger Daughter deployed for six miserable months (no shore leave for any of the sailors) and is now land-based at her overseas duty station (until her next deployment, of course).

If the last year has done nothing else, it has tested a whole lot of people. That testing is still going on today, everything from the hundreds of thousands of small business either closed or struggling, to the current catastrophic situation in Texas (and to a lesser extent, Oregon).

As a result of the myriad issues America has faced in the last year, being prepared is more important than ever. I think we can all agree on that. What's questionable is whether it's possible, since so many people are struggling financially. (For those in compromised financial straits, Daisy Luther at The Organic Prepper and its sister site The Frugalite writes a lot about this issue. Her material is well worth reviewing.)

So when I saw an article this morning on Natural News entitled "Fifteen HARD lessons I learned from the 'Texageddon' blackouts and collapse of critical infrastructure," I read it with interest.

I often get impatient with Natural News because it tends toward the "We're all gonna die!" mindset, but this one was fairly good. The bulk of the advice is in the form of a podcast I didn't bother listening to, but here are the 15 points synopsized down. My comments are italicized and (in parentheses).

• Survival is very physical. Expect to exert a lot of physical effort. (Agreed. We had a massive windstorm and subsequent power outage back in 2015, and it was very hard work indeed to maintain livestock, water, etc.)

• Culture matters. Don't end up in a community without morals or ethics when it all hits the fan. (Easy to say, not necessarily easy to do. Not everyone can afford to move.)

• Convergence of two "black swan" disasters can wipe out your best plans, even if you have successfully prepped for any one (standalone) disaster. (Agreed. I've always maintained preparedness doesn't make you immune to disaster; it just gives you a fighting chance.)

• Some of your preps will FAIL. It's difficult to consider all possible scenarios, so count on failures striking without warning. (Agreed.Three is two, two is one, etc.)

• You need LAYERS of preparedness and "fall back" systems that are very low-tech and require nothing more than the laws of physics (gravity, chemistry, etc.). (That's why I've always preferred low-tech options for preparedness.)

• No one is coming to help you. In many situations, no one can get to you even if they wanted to.

• Containers (buckets, barrels) are extremely important. Have lots of pre-stored water and fuel at all times.

• Bitcoin and crypto were all completely valueless and useless during the collapse, since they all rely on electricity. Gold, silver and cash worked fine, on the other hand. (Yay, at last someone gets it! I've always thought tangible assets were the way to go. Personally I prefer the "stock" market such as cattle and chickens.)

• You will likely experience injuries or mishaps due to new, unusual demands on your work activities. Practice safety and be prepared to deal with injuries yourself.

• Having lots of spare parts for plumbing. Standardize your pipe sizes and accessories. I have standardized on 1″ PEX pipe and all its fittings because PEX is very easy to cut, shape and rework. Plus it's far more resistant to bursting, compared to PVC. (I take exception to this. We should all have "lots of spare parts" for plumbing? Really? Why not just have an extra house you can keep in your back pocket for any spare parts you need? What happened in Texas was unprecedented, and the whole plumbing issue is vastly more complicated than just what's under your sink. In other words, while spare plumbing parts are great, this is a "hindsight is 2020" recommendation that seems a little too pat and smacks of blaming the victim.)

• Investment in food is always a good investment, as prices will continue to climb. No one ever said during an emergency, "Gee, I wish I had less food here."

• You can't count on any government or institution or infrastructure to solve anything. Usually they just get in the way.

• You MUST have good lights and many backup batteries, or you will be sitting in the dark. You'll need a good headlamp (I use the PETZL Nao+) and some good 18650-battery flashlights such as Nitecore. (I'm also a big proponent of kerosene lamps.)

• Guns and bullets are not needed in some survival scenarios, so balance your prepping. Don't put all your money into ammo and fail to cover other important areas like emergency first aid. (Totally agree! There are too many "Rambo" preppers out there who think that because they have a bristling arsenal, that's all they need to be prepared. What are they going to do – shoot their way into a closed convenience store to steal what they need whenever the power goes out?)

• Think about what are stores of energy: Wood, diesel, gasoline, propane, water elevation, etc. Survival is a lot about energy management. (Agreed. To a minor extent, we're facing that now in our new home. We're still without the backups we need to stay comfortable during a grid-down situation.)

Anyway, that's about all the rambling musings I have at the moment. Sorry to sound so incoherent.

Meanwhile, if you're in Texas, Oregon, or any other location affected by the recent storms, please let us know how you're doing and how you're coping.

Gullywasher

Yesterday was a mishmash of clouds and sun, with thundercells darting around us. The weather called for localized small stream flooding in places thunderstorms hit. But at our place -- nothing.

Until evening.

Then a storm cell began building up, the proportions of which we seldom see around here. It grew bigger and more ominous, and Don and I made sure everything was battened down. It approached from the unusual direction of the northwest (our prevailing wind is from the southwest).

As we watched, the lip of the cell moved over a distant hillside and started dumping rain.

The edges of the cell were seriously dramatic. This is looking north:

And this is looking south:

And then the rain hit, pounding so hard it made bubbles in the puddles. Lightning danced all around us, thunder crashed. Surprisingly we didn't lose power, except for a couple of flickers here and there.

The cattle, which had been grazing in the pasture, came dashing up to take shelter under the barn awning.

The cell passed within 45 minutes. Around 11 pm, another cell passed overhead, with bright flashes of lightning and crashing thunder.

Today is calm and clear, but everywhere are little debris dams from where the rain swirled and washed over the ground during the evening before.

The good news is after a pounding like that, I'm off gardening-watering duty for at least two days.

Weather break

Yesterday we had a glorious break in the six-week-long heat wave north Idaho has been experiencing.

Temperatures during this time rarely dipped below 90F, and more often hovered around 95F or higher. Without air conditioning (and without the constitution to handle heat), we were miserable.

But yesterday may have broken the back of the hot temps. Yesterday we had another one of those humdinger thunderstorms come through the panhandle.

We watched the Doppler radar all afternoon and spent the time battening down hatches. Since we expected to lose power (and therefore lose water, since our well pump is electric) we filled every livestock tank and chicken waterer brim-full.

I also topped off a few extra gallons of household water, in addition to the 40 or so gallons of drinking water we store.

We got the dishes done and the laundry caught up, and everyone took showers. The oil lamps were already filled from the last storm that came through.

We also fed the critters in the bull pen early. They were well-protected by the barn awning. The animals on the pond property, however, would just have to weather the storm.

The temperatures were in the high 80s and it was very humid as we waited for the storm cell to overtake us. Gradually the clouds started building up.

At the very last minute I decided to jump in the shower since I was very sweaty, only to have the power flicker off once, then twice. When it came on the second time, I thought I'd make a dash for a shower and hope for the best. It worked.

By the time I emerged, the storm was full on us. Howling wind, torrential rain, flickering lightning, crashing thunder.

After about half an hour, the end was in sight. Surprisingly, except for those two flickers, the power stayed on.

The temperature dropped almost 25 degrees, down to 62F. Felt glorious! The air smelled fresh and clean and damp and delicious.

Unsurprisingly this morning dawned foggy.

The garden survived okay, except the wind knocked down a large portion of green pears. Grrrr.

But today's temperature never exceeded 70F. What a gift!

It was cool enough that I actually took a walk in the afternoon. All the dust was washed off the vegetation, and for the first time I noticed fall is creeping into north Idaho. The ninebark bushes are turning red.

I even saw a gaillardia, one of my favorite flowers. They seem almost too showy to be wild.

We're staying in the high 70s to mid 80s with chances of rain for the next few days, blessed relief for our area. I'll accept these temperatures as the gift they are!

Violent storm

Holy cow, we had one hum-dinger of a thunderstorm that rolled through yesterday. It was totally unexpected and caught almost everyone by surprise, both by its very existence as well as its ferocity.

I had taken Younger Daughter to her violin lesson in a nearby town and watched as dark clouds started pushing in, but it wasn't until we were driving home that it hit.

Seldom have I seen such torrential rain and fierce wind. The windshield wipers were going full-blast and still it was hard to see.

The lake had choppy whitecaps pushed by the wind.

The heavy rain lasted about ten minutes and then eased off, but the wind was still high. We rounded a corner and came to a stop because a small tree had fallen across the road. A semi truck and a car had stopped and the drivers were pulling the debris off the road.

By the time we made it to our own dirt road the storm cell had passed, leaving torn branches and debris everywhere...

...including this tree which snapped in half.

A local farmer, whom we hired to cut, swath, and bale some adjacent property for grass hay, had brought out some equipment but hadn't yet begun to cut (thankfully).

The last of the storm, heading out.

We arrived home to find minor chaos. The power was out, of course. Don and Older Daughter had run around trying to batten down hatches, but the wind blew from the northwest (rather than the usual southwest) and poured water even through shut windows because the wind was so strong. Every towel in the house was soaked because they ran around mopping up as fast as they could.

Unfortunately in their haste, they forgot to check the upstairs windows... and our bedroom faces north. A jar on the windowsill had half an inch of water on it and the wind blew the rain in so hard that the carpet was wet -- soaked and squishy -- six feet into the room. Our bed was mostly protected by the bedspread, which was quite wet. We pulled it off and found the sheets and blankets below slightly damp but not bad. Our clock radio, however, is toast. (It's 24 years old, so it's served us well.)

The rain came down so hard it made little debris dams in the driveway.

Of course the garden got battered, but not as badly as we'd feared. The potatoes were blown over, but they're recover.

Here's the corn. It may or may not make it.

Tomatoes. I think they'll be okay.

Brussel's sprouts. Again, I think they'll be okay. Nothing snapped.

The loafing shed against one of the garden fences was trashed, however. Absolutely destroyed.

Sparky and hew new baby had some shelter from the barn awning, but the wind was blowing sideways so they still got wet.

The good news is the storm dropped the temperature thirty degrees -- from 90F down to 60F -- a welcome relief from the unrelenting heat we've been having.

The bad news is there are thousands of acres of hay around the county that are cut and drying on the ground. With temps shooting straight back up into the 90s, this hay stands a very good chance of rotting. It could be salvaged if it's turned and fluffed, but there aren't enough farmers to turn and fluff so much cut hay before it starts to rot. Breaks my heart.




Sunset.

Since the power was out, the chickens were reluctant to go into the darkened coop. I lit the hurricane lamp and tied it inside, so they'd have an incentive to go indoors. (Of course we removed it before locking them in for the night.)

The girls played the game Life by lamplight.

Deep in the night, at 2:30 am, the hard-working electric company workers came slowly down the road, lights flashing, searching for damage. They came and went, then returned again at 3:30 am. Power was on by 3:45 am. My hat's off to these guys -- they are some of society's unsung heroes.

Unsurprisingly after such a storm, the morning was foggy...

...and today was cooler (high 80s) though the temps are supposed to climb again tomorrow and for the next few days.

Damage reports have been coming in. A tree came down and clipped a corner of a neighbor's house, but it can be repaired.

Another neighbor who built a small studio that was meant to be moved somewhere else, had it totally flipped upside down. No one was in it, thankfully.

I decided it was time to wash, and top off all the oil lamps, which tend to get dusty with disuse.

Altogether things could have been worse, though I still feel terrible for the farmers who lost their hay crop.