Our farmstead is located in Moira, New York, which is about 20 minutes from Canada. As you may have heard, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine and Quebec were hit with a devastating ice storm on January 6, 7, & 8th. We received over 5 inches of ice, followed by sub-zero weather, and then a foot of snow. Over one million homes lost power for up to two weeks, and even later some areas (mostly farms, of course) were still running on emergency generators.

To us, however, this was just another winter storm. Being off the grid, we have solar panels, a wind generator, a propane refrigerator and cookstove, a hand pump at the kitchen sink, a compost toilet (which doesn't), a pantry filled with home canned food, etc. As the world around us went dark, we were cooking a homegrown roast and watched news reports on the tv. Our wood heat kept us warm while the world around us scrambled to shelters or sought out rapidly dwindling supplies of kerosene heaters, generators, candles, batteries, food, etc. While our feed grain went too low for comfort, our herd of 40 goats seemed little bothered by the calamity occurring in the world of men.

Instead of giving you detailed descriptions of the disaster, I offer the following:

Can you hear it?

A winter rain turns to ice as Nature drapes herself in crystalline beauty. Reduce speed. Roads are getting slippery. More rain and more freezing. Shrubs and trees begin to sparkle as every twig and branch is cloaked in the clear, frozen water.

Can you hear it?

Winter storm advisory. Freezing rain continues to wreak havoc at rush hour as ice begins to build on roads and highways. Sand crews are out but motorists are advised to travel with extreme caution.

Hour after hour the ice thickens. Nothing stands that does not appear to have been dipped in molten glass.

Can you hear it?

A slight breeze and the forest tinkles like a giant wind chime.

More rain, more ice, hour after hour into the next day. Even road crews suspend operations. It is just too dangerous to be out.

An eerie silence pervades the world. No cars, no planes, no birds. Just the gentle sssssss of lightly falling rain.

CRACK, SHATTER! The sound is like that of a shotgun targeted at a thousand panes of glass.

Again, CRACK, SHATTER! Again and again and again.

Can you hear the drums?

Flashes of light fill the horizon. A display equal to that of a lightning storm is seen everywhere. Only this display is at ground level.

Darkness everywhere. The distant glow from village and town centers no longer lights the evening sky. Radios are only static noises.

The war rages all day and night.

CRACK, SHATTER! Everywhere the scream of a world falling, crumbling to pieces. Tears begin to flow as tree after tree succumbs to the deadly weight of the gently falling ssssss. What was yesterday a proud standing woods is now an alien landscape of twisted and broken limbs and trees.

People slowly find their way to shelters or huddle in a single room for warmth. Food begins to spoil and there is not a battery or candle to be found. Cows bellow for the relief of a milking machine that now sits quietly in the dark. Curfews and states of emergency are declared. And this goes on, day, after day, after day.

The gentle rains have stopped and the temperature plummets below zero. Snow is on its way. Man's monuments to progress lie strewn across roads like miles of dead serpents; his crosses are snapped or toppled and no longer carry society's life force.

Nature has destroyed her own to show that man has not mastered her elements.

Will we learn? Will we seek the peace and harmony that Mother now demands?

Can you hear it?

Can you hear the throb of Nature's ancient war drums? To us it is the sound of ice. To others, the raging floods; the silence of drought; the cry of plague and famine; the quaking of Mother herself.

CRACK, SHATTER!

That which we do not yearn for, but know is coming, is now upon us. Society stands at the edge of the precipice. It cannot retreat, for it is blocked by its own ignorance.