Pantry Mentality

And, just like that, a profound chill settled over the land. People who thought they were impervious began to have second thoughts. People who thought they were prepared stopped and took stock of the situation. Plans changed abruptly. Things looked normal enough, but there’d been a subtle shift, you could almost hear Dorothy saying, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

It’s not a big adjustment for us. We don’t commute and we’re not big travellers, so road conditions are not an issue. It’s damn cold out there, running below zero at night and the single digits in the day. Mostly it means we run the woodstove 24/7, instead of just afternoons and evenings. It begins to chew into our firewood supply. What? Did you think I meant something else?

We went into this winter season a little lean—mostly because of other projects. The last few mild winters have made us lax—even though I said, all summer, that this would be a “real winter.” I follow weather and climate issues, and all the indicators were that we were coming into a La Nina cycle. Now I’m eyeing our fuel supply in the woodshed, wondering if it’s enough to carry us through spring.

Not that we’re without back-up. We burn deadfall—trees that have already died and fallen—so our wood supply is pretty seasoned by the time we cut. Even then, it usually doesn’t all make it into the woodshed the year we cut; it sits, cut, but not necessarily split, on pallets for another season. And then there’s usually a pile of “difficult wood” or newly cut (like when we take out a diseased tree), that we could use in a pinch. And there’s a stack of uncut, but fully seasoned wood in longer log form, out behind the barn. So if we run the woodshed empty, we can always turn to alternate supplies.

Looking at it now, I’m guessing we’ll run about a third of a cord short from the woodshed—and we have a half cord sitting there, covered, almost ready to go. We’ll be warm enough. It’s a country thing, pantry mentality. It means you have what you need, and then some, just in case. I know most folks don’t give it another thought—they adjust the thermostat, or run to the grocery store if things run low. But it’s a good idea to take a longer view, to keep an eye on the horizon to be prepared.

Because there are cold and dark days ahead.

I have a friend who is also a Facebook “influencer.” He has been warning people for weeks that they need to stock up, that instability and uprisings will likely interrupt the supply chain, causing shortages of food and necessities.

Until last week, I thought it was overblown. But then, I grew up with a pantry mentality.

My parents had only one car, which my father needed to get to work. We lived in Canada in the 1960s, when blue laws meant that grocery stores were not open on Sundays, and only open a half day on Saturdays (and some closed on Wednesdays–don’t ask, it has convoluted historical roots.) So shopping for a family of seven was inconvenient, and a big deal.

Once every two weeks, in the wee hours of the morning, my parents would load us up into the car, drive us all to my Dad’s office (across the river in Detroit), and then Mum would take us home so we could get to school. She’d do the shopping during the day (often with a kid or two in tow) and then, at the end of the day, load us all up again, to go pick my Dad up. Grocery day was grueling and an inspiration for any mild-mannered prepper. If you were going to need it in the next two weeks, you bought it that day.

From there, my parents moved to Copper Harbor, in the far north of Michigan. The closest grocery store was 37 miles away, and any major shopping was 50 miles away. Again, you didn’t go often and you bought enough to last. Pantry Mentality.

I know that urban dwellers have the option of fresh, civilized marketing on a near daily basis. Even when I lived in the city, that has never been my reality. I gardened for most fresh produce. And, since I always worked, grocery shopping was in the evenings, or left to the crowded weekends. And in Northern California, there was always the possibility of disruption from earthquakes. I kept things on hand for a longer haul.

How long could you go if the stores were closed…or empty?

I’m thinking I could go weeks, maybe even a month, though the menu would be pretty limited by the end. During the summer months, when fresh is a walk to the garden, we could go longer.

Though (with fingers crossed) I don’t think our current crisis will result in shortages, it’s time for people to pull their heads out of the sand and consider emergencies. If the pandemic has taught us anything, it should be that we need to be nimble and creative about provisioning. Many of us are a ________ (insert your personal relevant crisis–blizzard, power outage, hurricane, wildfire, pandemic, earthquake, plague of frogs, and yes, even an insurrection) away from food insecurity. A deeper pantry could be the difference between soup kitchen and a big pot of soup, in your kitchen.

So, while I’m not anticipating Armageddon, my friend isn’t all wrong. Stock up. Be prepared.

(Note, I’m posting this while Congress debates Impeachment. I may change my tune by the Inauguration.)

A Profound Chill