Rural Routes, Blog Version

Many years ago, in the days when I was writing a weekly column for a local newspaper, I devoted several paragraphs to the arduous task of reading the hydro meter in winter.

Depending on the winter snowfall, it really could feel like a climb up Mount Everest. I remember climbing  the pile of snow, which topped out right at the level of the meter on the hydro pole. I had to sit down on the snow in order to be at eye level with the meter.

I received several comments on that particular column from other rural residents who could relate to the story.

With a few exceptions, snow levels since then have not been as high, which is a good thing because my ability to climb snow piles is considerably less than it once was. In recent years, though, I had two meters to read every month – one in the actual farmyard, the other in the yard where our house is located.

The dogs would accompany me down the road and into the farmyard, racing each other to see which would get there first. The female – older and wilier – always cut through the ditch, through the bush and into the yard. The male came by the road, but was a close second.

A few days ago, I paid our last ever power bill for the farmyard. From now on, the house meter is the only one I will need to read. There will be no more races to the hydro pole, unless I force us to go around the yard a few times beforehand.

Power outages

Our power went out at about 11 p.m. March 4, just as one of the few snowstorms of the year began in earnest.

At other times, this would have meant searching for candles and hooking up the generator which we purchased years ago for just such calamities. This time we went to bed and our optimism was rewarded around 3 a.m. by the sounds of electrical appliances clicking on.

A year or so ago, we had a power outage during a summer rainstorm. We wanted to know whether the outage involved just us or was more widespread. Cell phone service in this house has always been unreliable, so we have maintained a landline to ensure access to the outside world. But that day none of our neighbours answered our calls. In some cases, it was because they were not at home. But in others, as we discovered later, it was because their portable phones did not work when the power was out.

Next we tried to call Manitoba Hydro. Usually we would be told to wait on the line for ‘the next available representative’, but this time we could not get past the automated voice which instructed us to access the Hydro website to report any outages.

Since we had no power, however, we had no Internet and no access to the website.

In the end, I phoned our children in Winnipeg and asked them to report the outage online.

Hampstead House

For more than thirty-five years, one of my favourite places to buy books has been Hampstead House Books, a family-run business in Ontario.

Their catalogue, and later their website, offered everything from children’s books, cook and craft books to art, history, whodunits and cowboy poetry. DVDs, music CDs and audio books were also available.

It was an eclectic mix that I enjoyed mulling over. Prices were low and shipping costs were more than reasonable.

So I was saddened to learn earlier this year that, after 40 years in business, Hampstead House Books would be closing. The March 2018 catalogue is its last.

My final order is now on its way.

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