After the big snow, what do we know?

We heard the weather forecasts. The kids were even excited about seeing snow. I was looking for the book I had intended to read two months ago. The coffeemaker was plugged in and all was right with the world… and then the lights went out.

That was Sunday, and things were downhill from there.

No lights, no electricity and no water.

Get out the candles, the lanterns and the firewood. We’ll pioneer our way through this.

The next morning, we emptied some large trash cans and shoveled snow to the half-way mark. After taking them inside, we used the melted snow to flush our toilets. A roaring fire in the fireplace produced some -- but not nearly enough -- heat. We huddled together under heavy Pendleton blankets and calculated how long the three cases of bottled water would last three adults and two almost-grown teenagers.

As nightfall approached, the house grew strangely dark and unusually cold. It was also unusually quiet in this busy household, due to the absence of television, video games and radio. By morning, it would be impossible to charge cell phones and streets would be slick -- mostly impassible, even for Amazon trucks! That cancels tennis, dance lessons and a weekend ballet competition at the University of Houston.

It also demolishes plans to travel to College Station with my grandson’s girlfriend to attend the Aggie Barbecue. It would have been her first visit since he began his freshman year.

To pass the time, we read, listened to a short-wave radio, played board games, concocted soups with whatever we found in the pantry, what we’d unloaded from the freezer (now in plastic bins on the front porch) and refrigerator. We also wrapped potatoes in aluminum foil and put them in the coals in the fireplace.

Luckily, we had cast iron skillets and pots. Still no water, but lots of bottles.

Layers of clothing makes cold bearable. We are fortunate in that we all have vacationed in snow country, so conditions are not totally foreign.

Books about early Americans speak of ingenuity, of “making do” with whatever’s available. Must be in the genes. We seem to be getting along fine and the days pass, albeit slowly.

However, the five of us are extremely compatible and ready to pitch in, whatever needs to be done. We’re dedicated to our survival.

My son is already making a list of what we need to have on hand for the next pandemic, power outage or water shortage.

By Wednesday, we have rolling electricity and, eventually, power is back on. Later we have water, but it all must be boiled for potability. A shower seems priceless.

Saturday at 8 a.m., we now have land lines, internet and TV (welcome home, Netflix). Checking for frozen pipes, Saturday morning dance lessons as usual and my grandson is chopping and stacking firewood -- not because he has to (we have electrical appliances) but because the freeze felled one of our neighbor’s oak trees and because they don’t use their fireplace, they offered the downed tree to us for firewood.

For the duration, on our cul-de-sac, it was neighbors helping neighbors, sharing information about weather predictions, checking for leaks, etc. For this house, we learned it’s possible to survive without cell phones and fancy food; we can entertain ourselves without video games or television; and we really like each other.

What could be better!