When the power went off in a nanosecond blink yesterday afternoon I thought it would be just for a moment, then it would come back on again. Although we haven't had any of these mini-blackouts all summer, we did experience them in the previous winter and spring. A nuisance, to say the least. Occasionally one would last up to an hour, once several hours; by the time electricity was restored we were in bed and I woke in the wee hours to find that some lights had come back on that we'd thought we had shut off before going up to bed.

It was just after four when I found myself in semi-darkness. Light was still coming in from the windows, but dusk had crept in and I knew that in a half hour we would be in total darkness. I had a flashlight, and was still able to read sitting beside the patio doors. My husband arrived back home about twenty minutes later to a dark house. Before even taking his jacket off he assembled candles, candlesticks and an antique kerosene lamp and lit them all. He also put on the gas fireplace.

In one fell swoop of fluid movement and instant response we had light. Sort of. He handed me a headlamp and reading became a whole lot easier. We thought it wouldn't be for long. One hour, then another. Jackie and Jillie were becoming restless because they wanted dinner, so they had their dinner and we discussed ours. What I'd planned for dinner was clearly not going to happen. I was marinating diced chicken breasts, and planned a stir-fry with onion, garlic, snowpeas, bell pepper and bok choy. And steamed rice to nest it all in.

My husband suggested he could mix up a tin of salmon for a salmon salad. He would put on the barbecue which we thought months ago had served its purpose for the year and was wrapped for winter. He planned to use a side burner to boil water so we could have tea with our dinner. So I cut up some vegetables; carrots, cucumber, tomatoes, and my husband went to work on the salmon and toasted a few bread rolls on the barbecue we could slather the salmon onto. All in the dark, despite my protestations.

Dinner was good, just perfect for the circumstances we found ourselves in. One thing about many related to my talented, thoughtful husband who excels in so many ways; he always comes to the rescue. Clear headed, calm, and efficient. Me, not so much. We relaxed, enjoyed our simple but satisfying meal, finished it off with leftover berry pie and cherry ice cream, relished the hot tea, and contentedly read the newspapers, occasionally pointing out stories to one another. The head lamp worked just fine.

One of our neighbours dropped by to tell us he was informed our power should be restored by 8:00; keep our fingers crossed, he said, smiling. If he heard anything more, he'd let us know, he said. Our land lines were also out though during electricity cut-outs the telephone connection isn't usually impacted. I wanted to head up to bed early, and just as I went up the stairs, kerosene lamp in hand, on came the lights. It was nine o'clock. 

Back down I went to my husband's satisfaction since he wasn't enamoured of the idea of getting into bed so early. He was soon on his mini-computer and I on my desktop, writing, downloading photographs. And we stayed that way for the following three hours. Jackie opted to stay upstairs to continue sleeping on our bed pillows, while Jillie snuggled up to my husband on the loveseat.

Today, it was instantly clear that Indian Summer had passed. Yesterday's warmth following on a week of balmy temperatures, lots of sun and soft breezes had been replaced by assertive wind and a high for the day of 7C. Weather changes on a dime, in Ottawa. With that in mind, my husband set about preparing the snowthrower for winter. He changed the oil, and installed a new spark plug and the trusty beast roared into life. Assurance that we wouldn't be caught out flailing about uselessly at the first substantial snowfall.

In mid-afternoon we set off with Jackie and Jillie for the ravine. On the way one of our neighbours who was in his car at the group mailbox adjacent the ravine entrance, let us know that 'he'd done it again'. Another fall, and this time it was his left hip that he broke. Necessitating a month in hospital, three weeks recovering in a long-term care home, the same one he stayed at when he'd broken the right hip two years back in an earlier fall. He's on crutches now, getting around. Becoming accustomed to the idea of having plates steadying in, on both sides of his hips.

Down in the ravine, on the forest trails all was still. It was decidedly cooler there than at street level. This has been another day of sun and cloud. When it emerged from behind the clouds the sun was brilliant, both eye-catching and blinding in its intensity. The trails were still wet and muddy in places where run-off down the hillsides tends to gather and turn the clay base of the soil into pure muck. Despite yesterday's rain the creek level is fairly low, just as it was yesterday shortly after the rain. With that shallow depth it should freeze over handily during the colder winter days to come.

It was an uneventful walk we enjoyed, all four of us.  We came across a number of people we've known for years, fellow trail hikers, and passed a few pleasant moments talking to one another. Exchanging stories of one kind or another. While Jackie and Jillie patiently waited for us to resume toddling along.

For dinner tonight there will be a reprise of what yesterday's dinner was supposed to be. We'll be even more relaxed than we were last evening. And there will be no thought of going up to bed early, neither for us nor for Jackie and Jillie.