Well, here we all are in the midst of a pandemic. In my memory, it is a time like no other. Schools and theaters are silent. The shelves in grocery stores are empty. Our town’s library is closed. Even 9/11, a horrible event, wasn’t this bad. People could still go out, meet each other, live their everyday lives. Schools weren’t shut. The library remained open. The coronavirus, a tiny but potentially deadly enemy, has taken away normalcy.

When the coronavirus struck China, I took note. Right from the start, it seemed to me that this was not business as usual, equivalent to, say, a cold or to the seasonal influenza. This particular virus, a novel virus, was something our bodies had never encountered and was terribly contagious. In addition, the mortality rate was much higher than the seasonal influenza. The numbers are still in dispute, but the death rate from the novel coronavirus is anywhere between 1% and 3%, compared with 0.1% from the seasonal influenza.

Even worse, perhaps, was the novel coronavirus’s rate of infection. It just swept through people, overwhelming hospitals and the medical community in China, making a bad situation even more lethal. Nevertheless, for a while in January, it looked as though China just might be able to contain the novel coronavirus. But no. Our society is too mobile. People travel from here to there without a thought, and cheap airfare encourages them to do so. We consider it our God-given right to go where we want whenever we want. Perfect conditions for a pandemic.

When the coronavirus spread to other countries, I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come to the U.S. Our mobile society all but guaranteed it.

Several weeks ago when the shelves were full, I stocked up on groceries and that precious material—toilet paper. A week or so ago, Clif and I began practicing social distancing, an unfamiliar term before the novel coronavirus. I felt a little foolish to turn down invitations to go out with friends, but I figured better safe than sorry.

I don’t feel foolish anymore now that the novel coronavirus has come to the United States. As it spreads daily, the novel coronavirus is something to be taken seriously. In fact, Clif and I consider it our civic duty to stay the heck away from other people. It is true that eventually we might become infected. However, if we can help it, we  want to avoid being part of the first wave of sick folks that overwhelms the medical community. What’s happening in Italy right now is heartbreaking. They didn’t take the coronavirus seriously and now  there are too many sick people and not enough supplies. This means many doctors are having to make decisions about who lives and who dies. Elderly people are dying without anyone to hold their hand.

Over the next few weeks or months or however long we stay home because of the novel coronavirus, I will be writing about how it has affected various aspects of our lives. Along with staying the heck away from other people, I feel it is my duty as a writer to face this horrible pandemic and to record my experience from the hinterlands.

But I will also continue to record what is going on in our very own backyard as winter turns to spring and the flowers begin to bloom. That is part of dealing with the virus, too. The return of life is a great consolation.

So dear blogging friends, stay safe, be well. And we will try to do the same.

Twenty-two years ago, Maine was hit with the mother of all ice storms that lasted for two days and left three inches of ice on the branches. Guess what happens to trees that have ice that thick? Lord, how their branches crack and break! On the night of the second day of the storm, I lay in bed listening to what sounded like a nonstop volley of gunshots ringing through the woods around our house as branches came down. Reverting to my Catholic girlhood, I said my Hail Marys over and over, praying that our house would not be damaged by falling branches. Perhaps Mary heard my prayers because our house was spared.

But the storm left behind a terrible swath of destruction. More than half the state lost its power, and because the weather was so cold, restoring power was difficult. Lines would no sooner be repaired when more branches would fall and break the lines again. We were without power for eleven days, and as I have noted many times, because we have a well, no power means no water. In those days, we had five people in the house, and five people go through a heck of a lot of water.

Now, from reading recent posts where I write about being prepared for, say, other ice storms or a certain nasty virus, you might think I was completely ready for the ice storm of ’98. But you would be wrong. We had no extra water stored in buckets down cellar, no supply of canned soups, no extra propane for our camp stove, not much oil for our lamps. We did have plenty of wood for our furnace, but that’s only because that’s how we heated our house back then.

So we didn’t freeze, but we struggled with all the things we didn’t have, especially water. Fortunately, the town has a public water spigot where residents can get water in a crisis such as this, but because of the treacherous roads, we couldn’t get out for a while. In addition, we weren’t caught up with our laundry as well as many other small things we take for granted when we have power.

We made do. What choice did we have? But for a while, the toilets were hideous, and we parceled out every drop of liquid we drank. As we struggled through the aftermath of the storm, I vowed we would never be caught flat-footed again. Going forward, we would have a stockpile of food, water, and supplies to help us get through emergencies big and small.

I have kept my vow. We now have a stockpile of supplies that have served us well. There have been other storms and other power outages. In 2017 we had a violent windstorm that again knocked out power to half the state, and we were without electricity for a week. (Many rural Mainers have a generator. We’ve thought about it but have not yet bought one and so far manage pretty well.)

The Coronavirus is a different type of crisis, but I am using similar methods to prepare. I know some people are probably shaking their heads when they read about how we have four or five months worth of toilet paper, facial tissues, peanut butter, and other necessities. When I look at our stockpile of treats, even I feel a little foolish. But I also feel secure knowing I have prepared the best I can for this virus.

I’ll conclude by sharing what Rhonda wrote on her excellent blog Down to Earth: “It does make sense to have extra food and medications at home to cover you if you need them. Worst case scenario, the virus will run through the community… and you’ll have enough food at home to feed everyone without having to go out. Best case scenario, the virus is a fizzer and you’ll have a cupboard full of food and you won’t have to shop for groceries for a couple of months. Win/win.”

Exactly.