Here we are at Darwin’s View! How fabulous and bracing when the electricity in half of the house turns off, usually during a Zoom business meeting or cocktail hour. Our salt water batteries aren’t as robust as they used to be. Only five years old, this winter has exposed their weakness: an inability to deal with power surges.

I lost confidence in the Dodge three years ago, when the brakes became mere suggestions. But Carl—ever faithful, ever hopeful—stuck by the truck, defending it. “It works!” As if it were a dependable phenom, a version of Hercules holding up the world, not a miracle of jerry-rigged wires and duct tape. But Carl exhibited hints of disloyalty when he would furtively put down his name on the waiting list for a Tesla Cybertruck, a Canoo, a F-150 Ford Lightning, a Rivian, an Alpha Truck. He was on the hunt for a 4-wheel drive electric truck. The question being, would any of them be released before the truck breathed its last?

December, month of the shortest day of the year. I love its darkness. It speaks to my need to go inward. Summers are stressful; I get pulled in too many directions by too many shoulds. I should be outside in the garden. I should be in the study. I should be weeding and seeding. I should be reading and mulling. I should visit the chickens.

This past July, I made an audiobook of my memoir At Crossroads with Chickens, A “What If It Works” Adventure in Off-Grid Living and Quest for Home. I enjoyed the process of reading it aloud, revisiting what brought Carl and me to this point. And, to my surprise, At Crossroads with Chickens is not as humorous a book as I remembered it. In fact, I found it rather sad. Maybe because I am on this side of that crossroads and know what has happened since.