Day 1 of our energy diet

We are leasing an electric car. We started in December, when I was working. Once a week, I had to drive to Winder for a district meeting. We could arrange to trade the truck with my Dad so Ray could drive the Corolla, or he could just take the truck. There was a great price, under $300 a month, for this car, and a tremendous state tax refund (up to $7500). We love it. It is really quiet, like driving a golf cart, or the Prius before the gas motor kicks in. We show everyone and encourage them to get one. Ours is a Nissan Leaf. It plugs into the garage and charges overnight. Depending on how far we have driven that day, it takes about 5 to 14 hours. The power company has a special rate from 11-7 at night, so we plug it in last thing at night. Our bill last month was under $100, including the car charging--no gas! In order to get the low rate at night, we have a really high rate during the week from 2-7, only in the summer. That is when there is the highest demand for electricity, due to air conditioning.

Yesterday was the first day that we tried to use as little electricity as possible from 2-7. Of course, we did not unplug the refrigerator. We did unplug the TV and its accoutrements and the computers. We turned off the fans and the lights. No cooking. The easiest way to do this would be to leave the house every day before 2 and come back after 7 (and eat supper at a restaurant). That is the plan for today, but it will not be every day. Yesterday was pleasantly cool. The outside temperature did not hit 80 and we probably could have left the windows open. Ray has been carefully opening everything at night and closing them again when it warms up. There are a lot of windows (and shades).

It was very pleasant in the house yesterday at 2. We had eaten lunch and would have happily sat reading for five hours. It seemed like we should use the time, though, so we came upstairs. The main floor of the house is in pretty good shape, clutter-wise. It still needs dusting and cleaning, but there are not as many piles of stuff as there used to be. Ray tried on about 20 dress shirts and most of them we rejected as too big. Some of them are his favorites, but they are going to Goodwill. I threw away some pieces of paper for my contribution. There are still a lot more.

By 6, I was pretty sick of tidying and went to check on the chickens. We have three "batches" of chickens: one of our original chickens, Gladys, a beautiful large Blue Orpington. She is the dowager Empress, sailing along majestically. There are two Black Australorps. They belong to my neighbor, Nancy, and are visiting until she can "raccoon-proof" her coop. They are less than a year old, but full grown and laying. I call them Ursula and Victoria. They are also majestic and beautiful. Then there are the babies: 5 Buff Orpingtons. They are about 3-4 months old, more like teenagers, long-legged and active. I can't tell them all apart and have tried on various names: Abbie and Abbie, Betty or Yolanda, Rodney, and Zephyr. The term "pecking order" comes from the way chickens sort themselves out. Gladys picks on everyone, sometimes pulling out feathers and causing distress. So far, no blood as far as I know. The five little ones are afraid of the Australorps, too, but they seem to be pretty gentle. They're afraid of people, too. Even among the five, there is a hierarchy. Yolanda seems to be the ruler, although I think she's a she. Zephyr is the runt, the smallest and maybe the youngest. He (?) zips around like a hyperactive four-year-old, getting pecked by the others when he gets in their way. It is somewhat mysterious why sometimes they will be actively annoying each other and other times huddled in a bunch like puppies.

On this occasion, I let the babies out to see how they liked the great big world. At first, only two ventured out. I didn't want Nancy's to get out, so I closed the door again. They were very skittish, trying to get in to be with their mates, but also constantly finding things they liked in the grass. Eventually four of them were out (except Rodney) and I had a little trouble getting them back in when it was time for me to go in. They were clustered under a small cedar, a safer place for them than in the open, and it was hard for me to "herd" them. I managed, though. All of our neighbors who have chickens have had trouble with raccoons and other critters. Coyotes and foxes have been spotted in the neighborhood. One got into my coop a few years ago and took a chicken. We have upgraded our coop since then and keep it closed up at night. I think our dog Cameron is a good deterrent, too. He barks in the night sometimes and of course, his scent is all over the yard. But it is nerve-wracking to be responsible for these little lives. I want them to get along, so they can all sleep in the big new "safe" coop. At the moment, the three oldest, laying hens are there, but the five babies are in the old chicken wire coop and I will feel better when they can join the others. Not that there is any guarantee. The morning light brings a certain comfort, when I can count them and see that nothing happened.

Before 7, we were preparing food, rinsing and chopping, so that at 7, we could turn the stove on and start cooking. Naturally, this means a latish dinner hour, but with planning it is doable. Then we can settle down in front of the TV, putting the chickens to bed at dark, plugging in the car at 11, and going to bed ourselves.