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Solar Powered

As home improvements go, I’d rather have an updated kitchen or a home office with a door. Instead, I’ve got solar panels on my roof. Twenty-eight of them.

The Hvals have gone green and it’s all my Norwegian brother-in-law’s fault.

Norwegians are a thrifty lot and when Derek heard Kjell bragging that his utility bill would “zero dollars” he was intrigued. He followed the process intently, as our brother-in-law winnowed through solar companies, selected a provider and had his panels installed.

Then Derek announced that he too, wanted our electric bill to be zero dollars. He regaled me with several lengthy presentations about the amazing benefits of solar energy, even though installing solar panels isn’t cheap.

“No sales tax on it in Washington State,” he enthused. “And a 26% federal tax credit that will drop to 22% in December. so we need to move quickly.”

Phone calls were made, funds secured, and in June our panels were installed just in time to capture rays during our sunniest months.

At least, I think we’re capturing something. Honestly, despite Derek’s PowerPoints, I’m still not exactly sure how this solar energy thing works. I mean, I get that solar power is the conversion of renewable energy from sunlight into electricity – it’s just that I don’t understand how.

Apparently, Avista does because they installed a net metering system at our house which measures the difference between the amount of electricity supplied by them and the amount of electricity generated by us each month.

“We don’t store it,” Derek explained. “Avista does and the excess is credited toward the winter months. We’re already generating more than we use. In our older years, we won’t have an electric bill!”

Then he said a bunch more stuff about kilowatts, one-to-one credits, and the grid.

I tuned back in when he said he was heading to Costco to purchase a generator. It seems like my husband’s efforts to save money initially involve a lot of spending.

“Do we need a generator for our solar panels?” I asked.

Derek shook his head.

“No, we’re not using battery back-up or anything; I’ve just always wanted a generator.”

Then he talked more about the grid.

My husband has many talents, but I didn’t know clairvoyance was one of them.

In our north Spokane neighborhood, our power lines are underground, which means we rarely have power outages. Even Ice Storm didn’t dim our lights. Yet, when Derek pulled into the driveway with the generator in his truck, our power went out for the first time since last summer’s brownout.

“See!” Derek said, tapping the still-boxed generator. “This baby operates on natural gas when hooked up to the line, or we can use propane or gasoline! It will run our lights, AC, freezers…” he paused. “But I’m not sure about your blow dryer – that sucker uses, like, 2000 watts.”

I grinned.

“I can always use solar energy and dry it in the sun.”

He took that as a sign I’ve embraced solar power, but what I’ve really embraced is my brother-in-law’s influence. You see, Kjell has also installed a beautiful in-ground pool in his backyard and recently added a hot tub.

Derek often mentions he wants to have less grass to mow, and a pool takes up a lot of space.

Lately, I’ve been dropping subtle hints about how a pool could be warmed by the sun and wondering aloud if a hot tub could be powered by a generator. If I can somehow work in “the grid,” I may be swimming laps in my own pool next summer.

For now, I’ll sit in the shade of our backyard gazebo and watch those solar panels convert sunlight into electricity.

Columns

The Night the Lights Went Out in North Spokane

Our family recently went through a very dark time.

It came on suddenly, without warning. One minute we were relaxing after dinner, taking respite from the heat of the day in our cool air-conditioned home, discussing our Netflix pick of the evening, and the next minute our world stopped.

My reading lamp flicked off. The fans and air-conditioner stilled, and the wails from downstairs let us know our sons’ electronics had been disrupted.

Power outages are rare in our neighborhood. The power lines are underground, so when outages do occur it’s usually something on Avista’s end and we’re quickly back online.

Neither Ice Storm 1996 nor any of the recent windstorms disrupted our happy home. While all over the city food spoiled in freezers and propane lanterns flew of the shelves at sporting goods stores, we merrily went on our well-lit way.

So. Nobody panicked Thursday evening.

I mean, the most recent blip in our grid lasted all of a minute.

We peered out the window and saw our neighbors’ porch lights were off, and no lights shone from any windows. Our street lamp was out.

“Looks like it’s the whole neighborhood,” my husband said.

Feeling confident that the outage had been called in, the four of us gathered in the living room to await the resumption of our normal routines.

It was 7:45.

Thirty minutes later, Sam, 18, said, “Well. This sucks.”

His brother sighed. “I just got my new guitar pedal set up.”

We scanned our phones for Twitter posts about the outage, but nothing appeared.

I updated my Facebook status.

“No power in North Spokane. We’ve been forced to sit in our living room and talk to each other. #HELP!”

My friend, Beth, replied, “Surely your phones have some charge left in them.”

“Obviously,” I replied. “But we’re conserving our batteries for social media. #priorities”

The thought of being cut off from the world chilled us. We hastily checked the charges on our phones and Kindles and reported the results.

“We should be OK for a few hours,” Derek, my husband, said.

Slowly the Twitter and Facebook responses trickled in from other North Side folks. Apparently, our little corner of Spokane was the only area affected.

As the sun started to set in the smoky sky, I gathered candles and piled them on the dining table.

And not a moment too soon. Darkness fell quickly. Our son, Zack, put new batteries in my three pillar candles, as I fumbled in the dark cabinet for candleholders for my motley collection of wax tapers and votives.

Flickering candles don’t emit much heat, but it had been a really hot day. The house grew stuffy. We opened the windows, but there was no breeze, just smoke.

“Everybody to the gazebo,” I announced. “If the power’s still out at 10, we’ll make s’mores.”

This mom always has s’mores ingredients on hand during the summer months, and suddenly the boys were rooting for continued darkness.

Derek had wisely installed solar lights along our deck and stairs, so nobody stumbled on the way to the gazebo.

I remembered we had a battery-operated light that can be attached to outdoor umbrellas. Using our cellphone flashlights, we ransacked the storage room until we found it. Derek went out to light the fireplace while I gathered chocolate bars, marshmallows, graham crackers, paper plates and napkins.

We roasted marshmallows and enjoyed our sticky snacks as music from Zack’s iPhone filled the night. Our flickering fireplace was an oasis of light in a neighborhood shrouded in dark.

A big truck rumbled past, and we hurried to the front yard to see an Avista crew examining the box across the street. After a few minutes they got back in the truck and drove away.

We were still in the dark, but no one wanted to go to bed without some information.

At 10:45, I finally called Avista.

A nice man confirmed that they were aware of the outage and had sent a truck out, but the crew had to return for supplies to fix the problem.

The reason I hadn’t seen anything on social media is because only 45 homes had been affected.

“We estimate power should be restored in two to three hours,” he said.

The boys and Derek were ready for bed, but I had a problem. I can’t go to sleep unless I read for at least 30 minutes.

We’d recently bought a rocking chair for the deck. I scooted it over to the solar light on the railing, and Derek affixed the umbrella lamp low enough on the stand so I could see the pages of my novel.

Around midnight, I went indoors, carefully snuffing out the few candles still lit. I brushed my teeth in the dark and climbed into bed.

An hour or so later, the blinding glare of my reading lamp jolted me awake, and the rumble of the air conditioner filled the house.

We had survived the Great Spokane Power Outage of 2018 with marshmallows to spare.

I think our pioneer ancestors would be proud.