Rescue Operation
If you had awakened at 4:30 on a Sunday morning to find the electricity off and the thermometer reading from the remote sensor in the greenhouse registering 32 degrees, what would you have done?
Hiromi knew just what to do. Bring all those flats inside, through the frigid night air, wading through deep snowdrifts while doing so. I knew enough to find a big tub in which to carry each individual flat, the tub covered by an old folded terry tablecloth. I also moved the plants away from the dining room windows so the flats could be passed through the window to the warmth of the house. The forecast low was 17 degrees, which was precisely the temperature at 7:00 A.M., as it turned out. "I'm glad I shoveled away the snow from the gate," Hiromi said, as he bundled up.
When everything was ready, Hiromi trudged out to the greenhouse, pulled back the cattle-panel gate he's placed there to deter Max and began to unzip the greenhouse door. Right then the power came back on.
What would you have done then? Would you have gone ahead and unzipped the door, walked inside to check the other thermometer hanging there, to see if the remote sensor was accurate? Would you have lifted the plastic covering the plants to see if they were alright? Would you have cheerfully announced that the reading on the other thermometer was 28 degrees?
Or would you have thanked the Lord audibly and hurried indoors where it was warm, happy to trust the Lord and the electric heater to work their magic on the frigid temperatures--not flooding the interior of the greenhouse with freezing night air, waiting to check on things in the warm light of a sunny day? That's what I would have done.
Today the remote sensor has registered temperatures as high as 96 degrees. I am not hurrying out to ventilate or investigate. Let the warmth sink deep into the soil those plants are growing in, and warm the water in those black barrels we've put there to function as heat sinks. I am being patient. Good news or bad news--either one can wait till tomorrow.
An average temperature of 75 degrees for the day sounds just right.
This morning we discovered that the electricity had been off for about three hours. We rested comfortably during nearly all of that time. And the desperate action during the last few minutes of those three hours did absolutely nothing to affect the welfare of our plants--except for Hiromi's curiosity-prompted actions. The jury is still out on that one.
Hiromi knew just what to do. Bring all those flats inside, through the frigid night air, wading through deep snowdrifts while doing so. I knew enough to find a big tub in which to carry each individual flat, the tub covered by an old folded terry tablecloth. I also moved the plants away from the dining room windows so the flats could be passed through the window to the warmth of the house. The forecast low was 17 degrees, which was precisely the temperature at 7:00 A.M., as it turned out. "I'm glad I shoveled away the snow from the gate," Hiromi said, as he bundled up.
When everything was ready, Hiromi trudged out to the greenhouse, pulled back the cattle-panel gate he's placed there to deter Max and began to unzip the greenhouse door. Right then the power came back on.
What would you have done then? Would you have gone ahead and unzipped the door, walked inside to check the other thermometer hanging there, to see if the remote sensor was accurate? Would you have lifted the plastic covering the plants to see if they were alright? Would you have cheerfully announced that the reading on the other thermometer was 28 degrees?
Or would you have thanked the Lord audibly and hurried indoors where it was warm, happy to trust the Lord and the electric heater to work their magic on the frigid temperatures--not flooding the interior of the greenhouse with freezing night air, waiting to check on things in the warm light of a sunny day? That's what I would have done.
Today the remote sensor has registered temperatures as high as 96 degrees. I am not hurrying out to ventilate or investigate. Let the warmth sink deep into the soil those plants are growing in, and warm the water in those black barrels we've put there to function as heat sinks. I am being patient. Good news or bad news--either one can wait till tomorrow.
An average temperature of 75 degrees for the day sounds just right.
This morning we discovered that the electricity had been off for about three hours. We rested comfortably during nearly all of that time. And the desperate action during the last few minutes of those three hours did absolutely nothing to affect the welfare of our plants--except for Hiromi's curiosity-prompted actions. The jury is still out on that one.
posted by Mrs. I at
1:57 PM
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