It started like a rumor you don’t fully believe—an icy forecast sliding across the screen.
Then the temperature dipped, and the rain turned sharp. You could hear the change:
droplets clicking against the window, then the soft crackle as the world began to freeze in place.
The moment the lights went out
Silence is loud when your house loses its hum. No fan. No fridge. No heat.
In southern neighborhoods, many systems aren’t winter-hardened—so one freeze can overwhelm lines, transformers, and road crews.
We shifted from “normal life” to “storm mode.” Not dramatic—just intentional.
We picked one room as our warm zone, gathered blankets, and layered up.
We rationed device battery as if it were a flashlight: used when needed, protected when not.
What worked
- • One warm room (doors closed + blankets as insulation)
- • Headlamps/lanterns > candles (safer, longer-lasting)
- • “Fridge discipline” (open only when necessary)
- • Hot drinks as morale + warmth
- • A simple checklist so we didn’t forget basics
What we learned
- • Preparedness reduces fear—fast
- • Local infrastructure varies widely by region
- • Community matters more than gear
- • “Slow is smooth” on ice (and in decisions)
- • A plan beats a pile of supplies
The most “Frozen” part wasn’t the snow—it was the way everything shimmered: trees in glass, sidewalks like mirrors, power lines glittering.
Beautiful and dangerous at the same time. We didn’t fight it. We respected it, waited it out, and stayed connected with neighbors.
If you remember one thing
Make one small “storm kit” now: light, water, warmth, and a plan. The best time to prepare is when you still have power.