When you live in Missouri long enough you learn that winter has a mind of its own. One week you are raking leaves in a sweatshirt and the next you are scraping ice off the windshield while your breath looks like smoke. I grew up here and I am still caught off guard sometimes. The weather can turn on a dime and if you are not ready for it you will find yourself shivering in your own living room.

What Happened to My Neighbor

A couple years ago our neighbor Gary lost his furnace right as the temperature dipped into the teens. He had one of those electric heat pumps and it gave up the ghost around midnight. By morning his kitchen pipes were frozen solid. Darlene sent me over with an old kerosene heater we keep in the garage and a bundle of blankets. He was grateful but I could see the look in his eyes that said I should have been ready. He spent the next three days waiting on a repairman while running that little heater to keep the place livable. The damage from the pipes alone cost him thousands.

The Backup Heat Sources We Rely On

I keep three options for heat if our furnace goes out. First is that kerosene heater. It is not glamorous but it will warm a room fast. I keep about fifteen gallons of kerosene in metal cans down in the shed and rotate it every year. Second is a propane buddy heater with two spare tanks. The thing about propane is it never goes bad, so once you have it you are set. Third is the fireplace in our living room. We do not burn it every winter but I keep a stack of seasoned oak out back just in case. Darlene jokes that the woodpile looks like a beaver has been at work but she is the first one to sit close when the fire gets going.

Keeping the House Warm Without Power

When the power goes out in the cold, keeping what heat you have inside is the name of the game. I have a roll of plastic sheeting in the basement for covering windows. It may not look pretty but it traps heat better than curtains alone. We also have heavy blankets for hanging over doorways to keep one or two rooms warm instead of trying to heat the whole house. I learned this trick back in the blizzard of 1982 when I was still in my twenties and had a little house with a drafty front door. We all camped in the back bedroom with the door covered in quilts. It was like a fort and it worked.

Lessons From Out West

Now Steve out in Oregon likes to tell me that he does not need to worry about cold like we do here. He and Wendy live east of the Cascades where it is dry but they do get snow. Their furnace runs on natural gas and he figures as long as the gas keeps flowing he is fine. What he forgets is that gas furnaces still need electricity to kick on. I reminded him last Christmas that if the power goes out he will be in the same boat. He laughed but then I noticed a buddy heater in his garage when I visited. I guess he took my advice after all. Wendy says Luke and Charlotte love it because they can roast marshmallows indoors when Dad tests it out. That black lab Jasper usually ends up hogging the heat right in front of it.

The Little Things That Make a Difference

Sometimes it is not the big things that save you but the little details. We keep thermoses filled with hot coffee or soup so if the stove is out we still have something warm to sip on. Darlene swears by her heated rice bags that she warms up on the stove and tucks under the blankets. They stay warm for hours. I even cut old wool socks into sleeves that slide over the pipes under our sink to keep them from freezing. It might look like a laundry accident but it works.

Why I Stay Overprepared

At my age I am not interested in trying to be a hero, I am interested in making sure Darlene stays comfortable and safe. I keep our supplies organized in plastic bins labeled heat backup, light backup, food backup. She likes to know where everything is and honestly it saves me from rummaging around in the cold. Some folks think it is overkill but I would rather be sitting warm in my recliner drinking coffee while the snow piles up outside than waiting three days for a repairman like Gary.

Sometimes dinner is not the main event, it is the side dish that steals the show. Around here that honor goes to skillet cornbread. I have been making this version for years but lately I started brushing the top with Darlene’s honey butter right when it comes out of the oven. It is simple, it is filling, and it tastes just as good with a pot of chili as it does with a plate of scrambled eggs in the morning.

Here is what you need:

1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 cup all purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1 ¼ cups buttermilk
2 eggs
4 tablespoons melted butter
1 tablespoon bacon grease for the skillet

For the honey butter
½ cup softened butter
3 tablespoons honey

Preheat your oven to 425 and put your cast iron skillet in while it heats. The bacon grease should be in there too so it gets good and hot. In a bowl, mix the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. In another bowl, whisk the buttermilk, eggs, and melted butter. Combine the wet and dry ingredients and stir just until it comes together.

Carefully pull the hot skillet out of the oven and swirl the melted bacon grease to coat the bottom. Pour in the batter and you should hear it sizzle. That sizzle is the secret to a golden crust. Bake for about 20 minutes until the top is firm and lightly browned. While it bakes, stir together the softened butter and honey until smooth.

When the cornbread comes out, brush the honey butter right on top so it melts into every crack. Serve it in wedges straight from the skillet. Darlene likes hers with extra honey butter smeared on top while I usually dunk mine in chili. Wendy told me Steve once ate three slices in one sitting and then complained he was too full for dinner. Luke likes the crunchy edges while Charlotte pulls hers apart piece by piece, dipping each bite in the honey. Jasper usually stations himself near the table and waits for a crumb or two to fall, which it usually does.

It is not fancy but it will warm up a cold evening and fill everyone’s bellies, which is exactly what we need this time of year.

In July of 1993, the Missouri River swallowed whole pieces of the state. I was not directly in it, but I followed every story, clipped newspaper articles, and even drove out later that fall to see the damage with my own eyes. This was not just water in basements, this was barns collapsing, highways disappearing, and towns wiped off the map.

One detail that sticks with me is the town of Rhineland. It sat right along the Missouri, a little place of about 200 people. When the levees failed, the water covered every house in town. Instead of rebuilding in the same place, the residents actually moved the whole town to higher ground, hauling houses up the hill with flatbed trailers. Imagine your entire neighborhood deciding one morning, let’s just pick up and go uphill, because that is the only way we will ever sleep at night again. That taught me more about long term preparedness than any survival book ever could.

Another story came out of Jefferson City. The National Guard had to close Highway 63 because the river crossed it, not under it, but across it like another branch of the river. Farmers sat on the road shoulders with trailers loaded with hogs and cattle, waiting for someone to tell them where they could go. I read one account of a man who lost his entire herd except for a dozen cattle that swam across a flooded pasture and wound up in a neighbor’s field. He said he found them standing under a single oak tree looking confused but alive. It showed me that livestock are not just property, they are vulnerable living things that can vanish overnight if you do not have a plan for them.

St. Louis got attention, but the smaller towns were hit hardest. In Winfield, volunteers built a sandbag wall three miles long. They worked around the clock, and for a while it held. Then one morning the water found a weak spot and tore the wall open like paper. Entire blocks went under in a matter of hours. People who had been handing out sandwiches at the fire station one minute were up to their waists in water the next. That made me rethink the way I look at sandbags in my own shed. They are not a permanent fix, they are a buying time fix, and you better know when it is time to move.

The flood also knocked out drinking water systems. One report said that in Columbia, folks were warned to boil every drop coming out of their tap because the treatment plant was underwater. Some people did not listen and wound up sick. That is when I started keeping water filters in my prep bins. It does not take much—just a cracked pipe or a flooded pump house and suddenly that clear water you trusted is carrying disease.

And then there was the story of a farmer named Paul in Marion County. He had a diesel tank on stilts behind his barn, a common setup, but when the water came the tank floated free and drifted half a mile before it busted open in another field. His tractors were useless even on dry ground because he had no fuel left. I never forgot that. My fuel cans are chained to concrete blocks now, because what good is a generator if the fuel floats away?

Those details from 1993 taught me that preparedness is not theory. It is towns moving uphill, cattle clinging to oak trees, sandbag walls ripped open in the middle of the night, and diesel tanks bobbing like corks downriver. That is the kind of hard lesson you only need to read once before it changes how you get ready.

When the power goes out for more than a few days, clean clothes become one of those things you do not think about until you are pulling on the same pair of jeans for the fifth day in a row. I decided a while back that I did not want to be the guy scrubbing shirts on a rock like a pioneer, so I put together a hand-crank washer using two five gallon buckets, a toilet plunger, and some odds and ends from the garage.

Here is what you need

Two five gallon buckets, one with a tight fitting lid
A new toilet plunger (drill four holes in the rubber cup so it moves water instead of just suctioning)
A small amount of liquid detergent or soap shavings
A length of rope or a short wooden dowel for a handle

Take the first bucket and drill a hole in the center of the lid, just wide enough to fit the plunger handle. Slide the plunger in so the rubber end rests inside the bucket. That is your agitator. Nest this bucket inside the second one so you have double walls to help keep water from sloshing everywhere.

Fill the inner bucket halfway with warm water, add a tablespoon of soap, toss in a shirt or two, and snap the lid on. Now plunge the handle up and down like you are churning butter. The holes in the plunger cup push water through the fabric, which does the same job as the agitator in a washing machine. After five to ten minutes, dump the soapy water and refill with clean water for rinsing.

The first time I tried this Darlene laughed until she saw how well it worked. She admitted her socks came out cleaner than when I run them through the regular washer. I also learned not to overload the bucket. Three shirts at a time is about right, otherwise you feel like you are wrestling laundry soup.

Wendy told me when the kids were staying at a campground last summer she set one up with Luke and Charlotte. They thought it was fun, like a game, and took turns plunging. Steve said Jasper the lab sat right next to the bucket waiting for something exciting to happen, which it never did, but the dog was happy anyway.

The best part of this little project is that it costs almost nothing and you can stash it in the corner of the garage until you need it. Clothes are not just about comfort, they are about morale. When you can put on a clean shirt after a long day without power, you feel human again. And all it takes is two buckets and a plunger.

Out here east of the Cascades, snow is not the big fluffy postcard kind you get back in Missouri. It is drier, grittier, and it hangs around a long time because the air stays cold and sharp. Steve and I joke that the snow here crunches louder when you walk on it. The kids love it, of course, but it changes the way we go about our days.

Luke is nine now and he thinks every snow day is a chance to build the world’s biggest fort. Last week he roped Charlotte into hauling buckets of snow from the backyard to the driveway just so he could make thicker walls. Steve got in on it too and used a shovel to pack it down like concrete. Meanwhile Jasper, our black lab, barreled through the middle of their fort like it was his personal racetrack, which meant they had to rebuild three times. They never got mad at him, just laughed and piled the snow higher.

For me, snow days mean pulling out the slow cooker. I toss in whatever I have on hand, sometimes venison if Steve’s brother has been hunting, other times just beans, onions, and a couple of ham hocks. The smell fills the house all afternoon and by the time the kids come in with red cheeks and frozen gloves, we have something warm to go with cornbread.

The thing about living out here is the roads can stay slick for days. I learned quickly not to assume we could just run to the store if we ran out of milk or bread. Now I keep powdered milk in the pantry and I freeze extra loaves. It does not taste the same as fresh, but it keeps us from feeling trapped.

I also keep extra batteries for the kids’ headlamps. Sounds funny, but when the power flickers, those little lamps make it possible for them to keep playing or reading without missing a beat. Charlotte likes to put hers on and crawl under a blanket like she is exploring a cave. Luke just wears his around like a miner while he builds Lego towers.

Snow days are cozy if you are prepared. If you are not, they can feel long and stressful. My Missouri roots taught me to be ready for ice storms, and it turns out those same habits keep us steady out here too. It is not glamorous, but it is the kind of preparedness that makes a cold, snowy day feel less like a problem and more like a memory in the making.

This week I want you to put together a three day food kit for yourself and your family, but here is the catch, none of it should require cooking on your stove. The idea is to practice for a scenario where the power is out, the gas line is shut off, or you are simply stuck in one room with nothing but a lantern and a blanket.

Start with breakfast. Instant oatmeal packets work great if you have a way to heat a little water, but if you want to skip heat altogether, grab granola, dried fruit, or shelf stable cartons of milk. Toss in some peanut butter for protein.

For lunch, think shelf stable. Cans of chicken, tuna, or even Spam paired with crackers or tortillas will keep you full. Darlene swears by those little single serve tuna pouches because you can eat them straight and not dirty a dish. I also like shelf stable cheese sticks. They are not gourmet but they keep fine for months and add a little comfort.

Dinner is where you get creative. Canned chili, beef stew, ravioli, or even hearty soups can be eaten cold if you have to, though they taste better if you warm them over a camp stove or even a candle heater. Add a few vacuum sealed rice pouches that are already cooked and you have something filling.

Do not forget snacks. Trail mix, jerky, hard candy, and protein bars keep morale high. Kids especially need something that feels like a treat when the lights are out. I always slip in a bag of butterscotch drops for Darlene, because she will pull one out and act like nothing is wrong even if the storm outside is howling.

Pack all of it in a plastic bin or backpack, label it clearly, and stick it somewhere easy to grab. Rotate it out once or twice a year. I make a note on my calendar so I do not forget.

Your challenge is simple. By the end of this week, build that 72 hour kit without using the stove or oven. Lay it out on the table and look at it. Could you and your family really eat it for three days straight without getting cranky? If not, adjust it until you could. That is how you learn what works and what does not.