One way I describe myself as is being a night shift artist. I typically wake up without an alarm around 1 or 2 a.m. everyday and immerse myself in some creative endeavor, usually writing. So when the power went out for so long, and the batteries were drained out of just about everything, I found myself mindfully aware of what life was like for folks a hundred years ago trying to work by candlelight. So, how to make coffee?

I like my coffee brewed from freshly ground whole beans, but when I couldn't operate my electric grinder, I gained a deeper appreciation for the old fashioned coffee mill we were gifted that works by cranking a brass handle. Thank God I didn't have to use a hammer. I was also grateful for having a gas stove to heat the water. It's been refreshing not hearing the annoying "beeps" from the microwave. And that little-used French press carafe is really getting a good workout.

So I have coffee-now what? Our Newfoundland dog, JezzieBella, is up with me and lets me know she's gotta go potty. It's all part of our routine this time of night, but now the outdoor lights don't work and my mind is wondering about the prospect of running up against a mountain lion out there in the dark. JezzieBella, who ordinarily loves the snow, has to struggle to get to her favorite spot, but settles for someplace far short of her usual target. Thankfully, no cougars are around and we're back inside, safe and more or less sound.

I sit back down at the dining room table, listening in the candlelit atmosphere as I savor my cleverly brewed cup of joe. "Wow, that clock is loud," I think to myself. The wall clock by the table is normally silenced by the hum of the refrigerator, now relegated to the same status as the pantry. I like to play mood music from the computer as I write, but that battery was drained long ago, so now the clock rules, reminding me of how slowly time moves with every tick in the dark. And the dark feels deeper than I've ever known it, barely illuminated by a few flickering candles.

There are no cars passing by our house, and the two that sit in our driveway without a garage are so buried by the snow, you can't tell what's underneath the huge mounds. Imagine a quiet world without cars! Easy to do at the moment.

It can always be worse than it is. At least we have water flowing from the tap and the toilets are working. And we are able to boil water for dishes and to wash ourselves. My wife treated me to my first-ever bath drawn from large pots heated on the stove. Yep, just like Granma used to do. Our electric toothbrush managed to hold its charge, so we don't have much this weekend, but we do have some pretty happy teeth!

We heat our home with wood anyway so at least the house is warm. I wonder about other folks whose pipes may be bursting at the moment. That'll make some struggling plumbers happy this week. Fortunately, we had plenty of food on hand before the blackout, which also keeps our toothbrushes occupied. Our deck now serves as both refrigerator and freezer. I was proud, and maybe a little desperate, when I figured out how to make ice "cubes" by squeezing some snow really hard in my hand. It sure made my bourbon taste that much better. Here's to you, you wonderful Kentucky distilleries!

As luck would have it, I have enough gas for the snow thrower, I think, although the more than three feet of snow is daunting to move through. Our bodies ache from the workout we've given them so far, and we're not even halfway plowed out yet. Our neighbor, bless his heart, got his ATV with a plow blade stuck at the opening of our driveway from all the packed snow and grit the road plows keep blocking us in with. This storm has really been bringing home the lesson of patience.

My creative brain is agitated and restless from all of this oppression, so I decide to give the analytical side a workout by tinkering with some Sudoku puzzles in the candlelight. It's giving my eyesight a good going over as well! I think about young Abe Lincoln doing his school work under similar circumstances. I'm actually writing this story the old fashioned way, pen to paper, since there's no computer power. My handwriting is obviously out of shape. I wonder if the "Twitter Generation" will even know how to actually write something in the future.

I have no idea what's happening in the rest of the world-neither the newspaper nor the mail are being delivered. So much for "neither rain nor snow nor..." Our house only has cordless phones so they're useless, and the cell phone is getting no signal from the nearest tower. The unwanted isolation has at least taken my mind off all the suffering in the world, and those mind-numbing commercials.

I can see stars for the first time in three nights, and the cloudless sky promises to bring a bright sun very soon to help melt away all this heaviness. That'll help the electrical workers bring us back the power we're all so addicted to. Unfortunately, it will also make the snow that much heavier and more back-breaking to clear.

This blackout will be a memory soon and we'll all have new stories to share about how we coped. The darkness and the silence that has isolated us all this weekend will bring us strangely closer together in the days ahead. We're listening, Mother Nature!

(April 17-19, 2009 brought nearly four feet of mountain snow and caused power outages for thousands of people living near Evergreen, CO, where The Collardeys make their home.) www.walkthepeace.com