The other night Darlene hollered from the kitchen that the thermometer on the porch was showing twenty eight. I had been out earlier feeding the chickens and thought it was still in the mid thirties. That little dip caught me flat footed. I keep a decent amount of firewood stacked near the back porch but I had not yet moved the smaller kindling into the mudroom where I can grab it quick. Nothing makes me feel more foolish than fumbling around in the cold with numb fingers trying to light a stove when I knew full well the cold was coming.

Layers That Actually Work
I have learned that the clothes you put on in a hurry can make or break how miserable you feel when that cold hits. I used to throw on whatever old sweatshirt I had lying around but then I figured out a proper system. A moisture wicking base layer is key. Not expensive gear either. I get mine at a local farm supply store. On top of that I wear a flannel shirt and then a quilted vest. If it gets really biting, I throw on my Carhartt coat. This way I can peel layers off if I start sweating while hauling wood. Sweat in the winter is sneaky, it will freeze you to the bone faster than the wind.

Water When It Freezes
I checked the rain barrels and of course the spigots had frozen solid. I should have drained them earlier. Out in Oregon my daughter Wendy and her husband Steve have to deal with even colder snaps east of the Cascades. Wendy told me last year they started keeping a small propane heater in their pump house so their lines do not freeze. I might try the same here. For now I keep a couple of gallon jugs of water in the basement, rotated out every few weeks. Those jugs are not glamorous but they have saved my bacon when the outside spigots are locked up with ice.

Cold Weather Cooking
Darlene has a favorite stew she makes in the crockpot when the cold sets in. It fills the whole house with the smell of beef and onions. But I got to thinking what if the power went out during a freeze. I set up a little two burner propane stove in the garage with good ventilation. It is not fancy but it can handle coffee in the morning and soup at night. I keep an extra twenty pound propane tank handy. Nothing ruins morale faster than cold beans straight from a can.

The Car Situation
One thing that always sneaks up on folks is how their vehicles react to cold weather. I once spent an entire morning trying to start the truck only to find out my battery had given up the ghost overnight. Since then I keep a portable jump starter in the cab and I test the battery before November even hits. Darlene keeps a tote in the trunk of her car with a blanket, a flashlight, hand warmers, and some granola bars. She laughed at me when I first packed it, but she quit laughing when she slid into a ditch one icy February and had to wait an hour for a tow.

What I Forgot This Time
I had not filled the kerosene lamps. They were sitting on the shelf empty as a politician’s promise. I had to scramble in the cold with a funnel and jug. That kind of oversight bugs me because I know better. My grandson Luke called me on video chat the next day and I showed him the lamp. He thought it was the neatest thing, like a pirate lantern. I suppose that made the fuss worth it.

The Dog’s Reaction
Even the dog gets thrown off. My neighbor’s lab, Max, started refusing to walk out past the woodline once the cold hit. My daughter’s lab Jasper out in Oregon apparently loves the cold and charges right into the snow. Funny how different animals handle it. Around here I keep extra bedding in the barn for the chickens and a heated water bowl for the dog. Nothing worse than watching a thirsty animal lick at ice.

Little Tricks That Add Up
I set bricks by the wood stove, heat them up, and wrap them in old towels to slip under the covers at night. I also hang blankets over drafty windows. Not fancy but effective. Darlene rolls her eyes at my patchwork look but she sleeps warm and does not complain once she is under the quilt.

That frost came quick and it sure woke me up to a few holes in my game. I will not be caught off guard like that again, or at least I will try not to.

When the temperature drops and the wind is cutting through the holler, this is what Darlene puts on. It is hearty enough to fill you up, simple enough that you can make it in one pot, and flexible if you have to substitute.

2 pounds beef stew meat, cut into cubes
3 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons oil or bacon grease
1 large onion, chopped
4 carrots, sliced into chunks
4 potatoes, diced into big cubes
3 stalks celery, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 cups beef broth
1 cup red wine or just use more broth if you do not want to mess with wine
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon dried thyme
Salt and pepper to taste

I dredge the beef cubes in the flour so they get a nice brown crust. Heat the oil in a big Dutch oven or heavy pot and sear the beef in batches. Do not crowd the pan or you will just steam the meat. Once the beef is browned, toss in the onion and garlic and cook until it smells right. Add the carrots, celery, and potatoes. Pour in the broth and wine, scrape up all the brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pot, and tuck in the bay leaves and thyme.

Bring it to a simmer, cover with a lid, and let it go for at least two hours on low. The longer it goes, the better it gets. I stir it now and then and if it gets too thick I splash in a little more broth. Darlene likes to serve it with cornbread on the side. If we are lucky, she makes enough so we have leftovers for lunch the next day.

This is the kind of meal that makes you forget the wind rattling the windows.

Folks around here still talk about the summer of 1993 like it was yesterday. The rivers swelled up higher than anyone thought possible. I was in my thirties, living in the same farmhouse I do now, and I can still picture the water rising across the bottomland like some creeping beast that just would not stop. Darlene and I had a little girl at the time, our Wendy, and she was only about ten. We had to think fast because when you see muddy water inching closer to your front steps, you do not have the luxury of drawing up a perfect plan.

I had always thought of myself as fairly prepared. We had a pantry with canned goods and a generator that I had tested a few times. But I had not thought about what happens when your access to town is cut off for weeks. Our county road was underwater for almost a month. The National Guard had to come in by boat to check on folks. That is when I learned the importance of redundancy. One generator is good until it breaks. I remember pulling that starter cord over and over until I realized the carburetor was gummed up. After that, I bought a backup and I keep them both maintained.

The hardest part of that flood was the drinking water. The wells all around here went bad with runoff and we could not trust a drop coming from the tap. I remember standing in line at a church in town where they handed out bottled water. Darlene and I swore we would never be in that position again. These days we keep a water filter system in the basement along with a stash of bottled water. I rotate the bottles so they do not taste like plastic.

Another lesson was mobility. We had only one working truck at the time and it was parked on the wrong side of the water when the road flooded. That left us stuck. Now I always keep one vehicle fueled up and parked where I can reach it even if the low ground floods. Darlene teases me for being fussy about gas levels, but she does not complain when we have a way out.

Neighbors mattered more than anything during that disaster. I will never forget old Mr. Thompson, who lived up the road, coming by in his johnboat to check on us. He ferried over groceries and even brought Wendy a pack of crayons to keep her busy. That kind of neighborly help is worth more than gold. It reminded me to keep good relationships with the folks around me because in a real pinch they might be the only help you get.

Looking back, I realize how close we came to being in real trouble. We were lucky in a lot of ways, but luck is not a plan. That flood carved some hard lessons into me that still shape how I prepare today.

I like projects that do not cost much and still give you something useful at the end. A rocket stove is one of those things. It burns small sticks efficiently, puts out surprising heat, and you can cook a full meal on it without wasting fuel. The first one I built was during a power outage about fifteen years ago. I scrounged parts from the shed and by suppertime I had a working stove that boiled water faster than my kitchen range.

Here is how I make mine. I start with a couple of empty metal coffee cans. If you do not drink coffee from a can, any food-grade metal cans will work. You need one big one for the body and a smaller one to create the feed tube. I cut a hole near the bottom side of the large can just big enough to slide in the smaller can at an angle. That angled feed tube is where your sticks go. Inside the big can I set a piece of stovepipe elbow that lines up with the hole and runs upward toward the center. You want that vertical chimney effect so the draft pulls the flames straight up.

To insulate the body, I pack the space between the stovepipe and the walls of the large can with a mix of wood ash and sand. Some folks use perlite or vermiculite if they have it, but I have found ash works just fine and I always have a bucket of it near the wood stove. The insulation keeps the heat focused and makes the stove burn hotter and cleaner.

Once that is in place, I set a grill grate or an old oven rack across the top. That gives me a steady surface to hold a pot or skillet. To fire it up, I break up sticks about the size of a pencil and feed them in through the angled tube. Once it catches, the draft does the rest and you get a clean, steady flame.

I tested it one evening by making a pot of chili out in the yard. The neighbors probably wondered what I was up to squatting by a smoking can in the grass, but I had hot chili and a working backup stove. Darlene shook her head but later admitted it was handy to know we had it.

The nice thing is you can scale it up or down. I built a smaller version out of soup cans just to show my grandkids how it works. Luke thought it was the coolest science project he had ever seen, especially when he roasted a marshmallow over it. Charlotte was less impressed until she realized she could make s’mores.

A rocket stove is one of those simple builds that can pay off in a pinch. All it takes is a few cans, a little insulation, and some time tinkering in the shed. It will not win a beauty contest, but when the lights go out and you still want hot coffee, it feels like a miracle.

Dad asked me to write a bit for his newsletter so here I am. Life east of the Cascades is different from what I grew up with back in Missouri. Out here in Oregon we get snow that hangs around for weeks and winds that come ripping through the valley like they are trying to knock the siding off the house. Steve and I had to learn pretty quick how to adjust.

One big lesson for us has been firewood. Back home my dad could walk out back and cut down oak or hickory and have a woodpile stacked taller than me in a weekend. Out here we burn mostly pine, and while it catches fast, it also burns fast. That means more cutting, more stacking, and more hauling. Steve and I built a covered woodshed last summer so we do not spend half the winter trying to chip logs out of a frozen pile. Luke helps with stacking now, though he sneaks more into fort building than into the shed.

Water is another challenge. Our well froze solid the first winter we lived here because the pump house was basically just four boards nailed together. I ended up in tears one morning trying to melt ice in buckets on the stove while Steve worked on thawing the lines. We invested in insulation, heat tape, and a small propane heater for the pump house. It was money well spent. I have not had to wash dishes with snow water since then.

The kids handle the cold in their own ways. Luke loves it. He bundles up and runs out with Jasper, our black lab, until his cheeks turn bright red. Charlotte is more like me. She would rather stay inside and read by the fire. I keep a basket of extra mittens and hats by the door so we are not running around hunting for gear when the snow starts.

Food is a comfort I lean on in the winter. I pressure can soups and stews in the fall so that on the days I am worn out, I can just grab a jar and heat it up. My pantry looks like a rainbow with rows of jars lined up. The kids tease me that I am turning into Grandma Darlene with all the canning, but they never complain when I pop open a jar of peach preserves in January.

I am still learning how to live in this kind of climate, but every year I feel a little more prepared. Dad says preparedness is not about perfection, it is about making progress and not repeating the same mistake twice. That advice has stuck with me out here where the wind howls and the snow drifts up past the windows.

This week I want you to set aside just five gallons of water and live off that for twenty four hours. That is drinking, cooking, washing your hands, brushing your teeth, everything. No cheating with the faucet.

Why five gallons? Because that is about what a person actually needs per day when you add up drinking and basic hygiene. It sounds like a lot until you start pouring. I keep a stack of blue five gallon jugs in the basement and they feel reassuring until I remember that my family could blow through one jug in a single day if we are not paying attention.

Here is how I do it. I fill one jug, set it on the counter, and tell Darlene we are on “water rations” for the day. She rolls her eyes but plays along. We make coffee first thing, then measure out what is left for cooking oatmeal. I keep a little notebook by the jug and jot down how much we use. It gets interesting around lunchtime when you realize you still need enough for dinner and tooth brushing. By bedtime, if you have anything left in that jug, you have done well.

If you want to really feel the squeeze, try doing it with kids or a pet. When my grandkids were visiting last summer I tried the challenge with them. Luke filled a glass full to the top just to dunk his action figures. Charlotte used a whole quart to “wash” Jasper’s paws. By mid afternoon I was down to a trickle and they were laughing like bandits. It taught them a lesson, though, and me too.

Once you try this, you will know exactly how many jugs you need to keep for a real emergency. Five gallons per person per day adds up fast. You will also figure out what habits waste the most. I guarantee the first time you wash your hands with just a splash from a cup instead of running the faucet, you will see water differently.

Give it a go this week. You might be surprised how much you learn from one jug of water.