Short days in late autumn

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist 

These short days, the days that hover around the winter solstice, pose a true test of our off-grid spirit. We have turned our solar panels toward the sun like giant flower heads so they can better soak up the energy providing rays, but even so to make matters even more challenging, the sun has recently decided to stay hidden behind the clouds. I must confide though, that these solar-challenged, short winter days have actually filled my life with some rather special times.

In the evening, as I putter about the kitchen preparing dinner rather than flick a switch to turn on a light, I have been setting a match to the oil lamp. The warm glow of the lamp's double-wick flame beautifully fills the cabin. We no doubt all know that candlelit dinners highlight special occasions, such as date nights or anniversaries, but I can honestly say that every dinner this time of year is a special occasion in our off-grid world.

Then, when I wake up in the morning and it is that slowly lighting time between a long night and a short day, I don't reach to flip on a light switch as I step out of bed. Greg purposely designed our hillside cabin with large windows. It almost feels as though we are living in a tree house, and one of the many things I love about our house is watching the dawning daylight slip across the log walls and bring the outside in.

The first thing I do when I step out of bed is look out the upstairs windows. I can see our neighbors, the deer, walking leisurely along the back hillside beside the stone wall, passing slowly through the barely dawning day. Then I notice the silver progeny of the white squirrel, who lives just up the road from us. Several of the white squirrel's offspring now live on the back hillside. Their bright silvery, not quite white coats shine in the early morning light as they flow like mercury among the leaves. I am actually amazed that they have survived, for they stand out so brilliantly against the forest background. No matter if the morning is cloud-covered gray or the sky is clear, it is a joy to greet our neighbors as light just begins to creep into the valley. If I were I to flip a switch and turn on the light, I'd only be greeted by my own reflection.

This morning when I woke up and looked out the loft window I could actually see the last few stars shining brightly down from a clear sky. The stars soon faded and the sun rose over the far hill, quickly warming our creek valley world. 

Greg and I had to smile as we sat at the table and ate our breakfast. We knew that this would be a day when our solar panels would happily soak up the sun’s rays and charge our batteries, and yes. By day's end, we had a full charge. 

Tonight, I thought happily, I would be able to turn on the cabin’s lights with wild abandon, but no. Come dinnertime, I pulled out the box of matches and lit the oil lamp. We settled down once again at the table. The flame’s warm glow reflected off our faces and filled the cabin all around us, and it occurred to me that every night in our creek valley world really is a special occasion.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.