Tuesday

Tuesday December 11, 10:07 am
Outside walls everything was cold silence yesterday. Today is even more terrible, and different. We are in a cloud. Frozen fog, and all around are shadows of trees, and the sounds of hunters and the cracking of their guns. It is not hunters. The trees are breaking. A second doesn't go by without one falling. The ash trees are split, my trees. I climbed and dreamed in them all summer. The west one cracked finally while we were sleeping. I heard it then but didn't sob at all until I had to see it, and all of them as I stood in the field and listened. Is it strange I am grieving for Trees. But they hang their heads so. I was angry too but I've stopped now. Have no strength for it. There's been no sun for 11 days. Ready for this to end. Still no power.

2:34 pm
It is very wearisome today to have no water and no lights. La of the Quarry Cliffs keeps calling on the cell to say that she's great and everything's on and she is just about to shower and watch TV. I don't care much. I'm sure she has also e-mailed me 1,548 times saying Why don't you E-mail me? Well, the first thing I will do when the Internet's back up is send her an e-mail, and it will say,

Here is an E-mail.

BE HAPPY.

9:04 pm
We are tripping over our own glee. Since about 40 minutes ago, Dad's somehow finally got the Generator running; and somehow got it hooked to run the well pump, and so we've all showered now and feel we could always be good if we never had another thing besides clean skin and blankets. To smell good is lovely. To have a fireplace, to have candles, to have pillows and a Da downstairs.