It feels like there was no snow of any consequence this whole winter. Now that we’re in April and have gone through Easter (the springiest of holidays!), I’m writing my second consecutive weather-related column. I’m drafting this column in between running around doing storm prep. By the time you’re reading this, the cute purple crocuses will be smothered into oblivion by several inches of snow – and maybe a little ice crust on top for flair.

My personal belief when it comes to storm prep is that if I over-prepare, the storm will under-deliver. Even if it doesn’t, I’ll still have over-prepared. It’s a win-win approach.

The chores are different now from storm prepping when I was a kid. Part of that is just my age. I’m the homeowner now, and somehow I qualify as a grown-up, so it’s my job to walk the perimeter of the yard and make sure everything is inside or under the deck, and to get the skirt of my house tucked in (my mobile home’s skirt keeps trying to convert itself from a maxi to a mini in the wind) and to fill the bird feeders, which doubles as prepping storm entertainment for the dogs. Karma, in particular, seems to enjoy bird watching. I’ve also picked up some toys for them that I’ve hidden, which I’ll pull out when they’re getting antsy from being cooped up inside. (I learned that trick from my mom.)

I need to take my trash and recycling to the transfer station (this is less storm prep and more because I have to do it anyway, and may as well get it done while I’m up and dressed). Since I have three antiques shops in a five-mile radius and zero big-box stores, I went to my favorite one to pick up a pair of brassy candlesticks. They can’t possibly be brass because they were under $10, but they look the part and, more importantly, will allow me to swan dramatically around my darkened home with a single taper candle. What’s the point of being trapped in a dark, cold home with wind howling outside if you can’t get a little gothic with it?

I’ve also stocked up on food. And by “food” I mostly mean “half-price Easter candy.” After all, I need fat to hibernate, right?

I don’t have to haul in wood anymore, which is both a blessing and a curse. I miss having a wood stove – there’s no warmth quite like it – but I don’t miss the splinters, back pain and the mice hiding in the woodpile. And I can’t fill up the bathtub with water for gravity flushing the toilet, because Karma will decide it’s her own personal swimming pool and the last interior design feature my house needs is an indoor ice rink.

Hopefully I’ve learned from my past mistakes. This time, when it starts snowing, I’m going to crank the heat up so that with the power inevitably goes, I’ll have more warmth to trap in the house for longer. I usually keep my home at around 62, which seems fairly luxurious to me; in my home growing up, we basically kept the oil furnace just high enough to prevent the pipes from freezing.

I have to go to the gas station to make sure my tank is full, and stand in line behind everyone filling up the ubiquitous red plastic jerrycans of gas. I do like how, on the day before a snowstorm, every gathering spot in a small town becomes a hive of activity – post office, gas station, grocery store – and we all know exactly why everyone else is there. It makes me feel more connected to folks. I also have to brew a pot of coffee in advance. I’d rather drink it cold than have no coffee at all. And hey, I can probably warm it up a bit over a candle, right?

One final thing I need to do to prep for a Nor’easter – and this latest had better be the last one of the season, or I’m suing the Gulf Stream – is to give thanks.

I know I talk a lot of smack about Central Maine Power. And let me be clear, I do think the corporate side, including and especially Avangrid, deserves all that smack talk and more. I think they use their near-monopoly power to generate profits for shareholders, year over year, at the expense of Mainers living paycheck to paycheck. But. Those guys aren’t the face of the company. The linemen, linewomen, linepeople are. And those folks are the ones who are out in the storms, working 12-hour shifts, risking their necks and freezing their toes to get our electricity back on. So, thank you. Thank you for everything that you do to keep our homes cozy.

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