With 2017 bringing us a fresh new blizzard, I thought it would be fun to recall an older blizzard that once canceled our spooky Halloween trick-or-treating:

With a cow, 15 goats, a plethora of chickens, and a few ducks, there was the issue of what to do with them. Along with those outside animals, the inside animals that we had (four cats, seven dogs, two chinchillas, a few birds and a rabbit) also needed to be taken care of. On top of this, there were all of us left in the house: Grandma, Mom, Dad, Erin, Kelly, me, Megan, Benjamin, my friend Nick, and Megan’s friend Carly. The storm of the century would soon be upon us.

“James, get a bucket and start filling up the outside tub with water. Erin and Kelly, start filling up soda bottles with water. Megan and Carly, fill up the bathtubs. Nick, go around the house and look for another bucket” my Mother ordered. As she said this, she adds to her to-do list as quickly as things get crossed off.

Friday, October 29, 2011: the TV blared with a weather forecast from some weatherman that I could care less what his name was. The words on the screen were a different case: the storm of the century. They were calling for heavy snow piling at least a foot, freezing rain to pack it in, hurricane-like winds to wreck some havoc, all the while power outages would spread like a forest fire. This was October. Instead of having children dress up in costumes for Halloween, they would all be going as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. It was all figured out; the precipitation, the wind, the expected outcomes along with the rest of the weekly forecast (mostly bright and sunny days), the length of the storm: they were wrong.

My father was out there hammering a tarp on the windows of the old barn just as the sun was right overhead. Wrangling in the chickens, who are very gentle to pick up if food is present, and securing them safely behind the newly strengthened walls.

“Katie!” my father yodeled to my cow to call her. And sure enough, she came right to him looking for food and some pats on the head. Leading her into the barn he looked to the goats still grazing in the field. He ran into the house and emerged with a box of Cheerios. A few shakes were all it took to be surrounded by the curious, hungry goats. Ominously dark clouds began to invade our once blue sky. The first flake of snow gently cascaded down onto the back of one of our does. Just like that, they bolted into the barn. Dad went to the barn door and locked it from the outside. Now that the animals were housed, it would be time to work on the essentials.

Dad was the farmer of the family while Mom kept him organized. He, like many farmers, was built for manual labor. His muscular build was preceded by a warm smile, hearty laugh, and a quick intellect. He was someone who you would want on your Trivia Pursuit team. My mom was more introverted kind of woman. She was a small build but don’t tell her she cannot do something because she will prove you wrong. She was the kind of woman who didn’t mind getting dirty and doing the “boys” work. Like my dad, her intellect was sharp. There are some days that she spends all day reading and researching different topics and projects in order to improve our self-sustaining lifestyle. Between the two of them comes two decades of farming experience. When trouble was imminent, a plan was already drawn up.

“Food? Check. Firewood? Check.” Dad said as he crossed more items off the list.

Because we lived on a farm, we clearly had more to tend to than our suburban neighbors. These essentials are critical to have in any given situation. While the food wasn’t an issue while the power was on, our means in which to cook them with became limited. We had enough pasta and frozen chicken to last us a few days at least. Firewood was also plentiful as we normally kept a large stock of it. Water was the only one that would be used semi-continuously. Also because we live on a farm, we had well water. Meaning when the power goes out, so does our source of water.

“How are the bathtubs looking?” my mom shouted to anyone listening.

“Two are completely filled, the third one is still filling” Megan shouted from the other side of the house.

“Someone go around and line the glass of the windows with duct tape” dad’s order quickly followed.

The storm outside thickened within the next few hours. Snow, like little marbles, whipped against the window pane. In my room, the glass in the window was cracked and snow was billowing in. A roll of duct tape soon gave me a new, more opaque window. The wind howled as is rode the structure of our house. The ceiling gave way in some spots, like my room closet, causing snow and rain to leak in.

“James, take the empty candle jars and place them underneath the leaks, It is,” mom said while piling her stash of candles on the coffee table.

Outside the window, there was zero visibility. Snow began piling against the house. The wind seemed to shake the foundation of the house. The house was silent. The storm seemed to throw everything it had against the window: the marbled snow, bullets of rain, torrents of wind. An explosive crash echoed from outside, in the direction of the barn. Dad, grabbing the binoculars and trying to look out at the barn could see nothing.

“A tree fell but it missed the barn” I called from the upstairs bathroom. The tree used to be a huge oak that towered over the fields in the backyard. What else could this storm do?

“Some storm of the century. We’ve been through worse than this” Nick remarked. He just had to say something. The situation was under control, for the most part, but he just had to go and say something.

Around 2 AM, the power went out. My mind raced with endless questions. What about the animals? Will we have enough supplies? Humans can adapt to their situation. Is it cold? We have blankets and will stay that way as long as we need to. Animals do not have that instinct. They don’t know how to conserve water, food, or adapt to a dangerous situation. They become targets for nature to start picking off. With only approximately four bathtubs of water, three bathtubs and all of the two-liter water bottles, having enough for all of us and the animals would be difficult.

The “bucket brigade”, as Nick and I called ourselves, were on constant duty to make sure that not only was the bucket filled but also not frozen. We also had to move the bucket a good 15 feet closer to the barn, because the paths that the animals usually walked on were now covered with snow. At 2 in the morning, going outside was usually out of the question. The threat of frostbite was high even if we were covered head to toe. That bin that we had to move holds almost 20 gallons. If each gallon is approximately 8 lbs, that means it's heavier than Nick who weighed 130 lbs. Reluctantly, we dragged that thing to where we needed to. The next step was making sure it was filled.

Nick, being my lovable childhood friend who has been through many adventures with me, was drafted into helping me with bucket duty. We filled a bucket up in the sink. A good three-gallon bucket weighs about 24 lbs. Next, I have to lift it out of the sink, which is a task in of itself, and carry it outside, down some steps, over a fence or through a gate (both of these options suck), and then another 10 feet to the bucket. Simple, right? As soon as I exit the house, a blast of cold air, frozen rain, and a ton of snow hits me right in the face. Assuming that I am fully dressed in multiple layers, I should be pretty warm. Wrong! The wind cut through clothing like a knife.

My body was numbed from the inside out. Those fingers holding the bucket? I hoped that they didn’t get wet, because if they did like they normally would when I move a bucket of water, my fingers are now numb. They feel paralyzed and stuck against the freezing cold metal handle of the bucket. The gate was a whole different problem. Along with trying to untie a bungee cord that holds the gate closed, I tried not to spill the water. By the time I got back inside the warm house, I am an ice cube.

The carnage left in the wake of this storm terraformed the terrain. Trees were ripped raw of their leaves and any small branches. Massive branches were skewered straight into the ground. A rock the size of a baseball was embedded into the oak tree not four feet from my car. The inside of the house was also a war zone: half water filled candle jars were littered around the house, drenched towels lined most of the leaky doorways, muddy footprints trailing around the house, couches lined with a molded layer of jackets, hats, and gloves. Even though this weekend was nearly over and the storm seemed to be over; we didn’t know that we wouldn’t have power for another nine days.

With a hefty sigh, we all armed our shovels and began clearing some of the white walls that blockaded us in our house. At least that's one of the positive things about having a big family.