THE USUAL NOTE FROM LB: From the summer of 2002 to the spring of 2010, Gwen the Beautiful and I were the proud and often exhausted owners of a beautiful Ozarks property we called Cloud Creek Ranch.
In many ways, the ranch was paradise. But it was a paradise with a price that started going up before we even knew it existed. Here’s another Monday musing about our adventure and the lessons we learned.
Oh, and if y’all detect any irony, please believe me when I say it comes straight from the universe and not your kindly Uncle Larry B.
by Larry Brody
After the rain stopped and the Big Freeze that was the longest-lasting part of the Big Bad Southern Ice Storm of ’09 began, trees and power lines and power poles throughout Paradise and adjoining areas fell for days.
In fact, as I write this, weeks later, they’re still falling.
On the fourth morning of the storm and its aftermath, Gwen the Beautiful, Not-Quite-Son-in-Law Jeremiah, and I awakened to the dismaying revelation that not only did we still not have any electricity, we were, literally, trapped at the top of The Mountain.
The 500 foot trail we call our driveway was impassible.
It was covered with toppled trees.
Which meant it was time for an Ozarks Chainsaw Massacre.
Jeremiah and I went at it, taking turns playing Ash Williams of the classic old horror film Evil Dead. We supplemented my chainsaw with an axe, shears, several handsaws, and a couple of horse lead lines that worked perfectly when it was time to drag tree bits from the driveway to the surrounding (and mucho encroaching) forest.
The first time we cleared a path for my truck it took only half a day of concentrated effort.
The second time we cleared the same path it took two days.
‘Tis the way of the world.
The trees kept on a’falling, and we kept on a’clearing because being stuck at the ranch just plain wasn’t an option.
For several reasons.
No electricity meant no heat in the “all-electric” (who came up with that idea?) main house. It also meant no cooking in said house. And no fresh water because without electricity the well pump was just a useless hunk of metal.
We had to be able to drive into town for food and drinkable water for humans. And down to our pond for flushable water for human toilets and drinkable water for Huck the Spotless Appaloosa and His Gal Rosie, both of whom seemed to be slurping up much more than usual for this time of year. Just to make us work harder, I was sure.
And eventually, yes, without a way down to the road we would run out of hay for Huck and Rosie, as well as dog food and chicken scratch and…and….
And anyone who’s ever likened living in the country to living off the grid doesn’t know what he or she is talking about.
Unless he or she’s talking about one of my smart neighbors, like Buck the Ex-Navy Seal and Delly the Interstate Trucker who, it turns out, weren’t overreacting at all when they bought themselves a shiny, expensive back-up electric generator right before the storm hit.
Not for me to say anything negative about Delly having to drive fifteen miles to the gas station and fill two five-gallon gas containers everyday.
I would gladly have done the same to keep the power going.
There was another reason we had to be able to drive off the property.
For weeks, Gwen had been planning on taking a cruise to Cozumel with Nettie the Old Billionaire’s Wife, and the cruise was scheduled for what turned out to be Ice Storm Week. I had to get Gwen to Nettie so Nettie could drive them down to New Orleans and they could get on the ship.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” Gwen said as Jeremiah and I cut and hauled. “I don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”
“I won’t be in the lurch,” I said. “Jeremiah’s Mister Outdoorsman. Wildlife photographer. Hardhat diver. Green Beret. Alaskan. Anything I can’t handle, he can. And I don’t want you to have to go through all this misery.”
I must’ve been pretty convincing because Gwen agreed to go through with the trip, and I got her down the cleared driveway and to the O.B.’s place just in time.
The only thing wrong with this resolution is that I really didn’t want Gwen to go at all. I wanted to say, “No! Stay here! I need you!” and her to say, “No! I won’t go! I need to be with you!”
But I didn’t.
So she didn’t.
And after she was gone, headed for sunny climes and mariachis and mojitas, I understood just how dark and long a powerless night can seem.
How miserable life can be when you feel alone.
More to Come.
