The Demise of Old Man Winter

March 6, 2015

The sunshine today was glorious! It didn't matter that the day began again with subzero temperatures; what mattered was that the sun was shining, and before the light had faded into dusk, the thermometer registered 22 degrees. If that doesn't sound like a heatwave, you obviously haven't been living in Western New York. It's almost shirtsleeve weather. And where the sun was actually beating down on the roof, the snow was starting to melt, which brings with it it's own set of problems. As long as it remains cold, the snow and ice can build up on the roof
all it wants, but when things begin to thaw is when the problems start. The ice has a tendency to stick to the shingles, so when the snow above begins to melt, either from heat escaping through the roof, or from the sun beating down on it, the water has nowhere to go, and finds little fissures and channels that somehow always find their way inside.

Our entry room is only partially insulated, and isn't vented the way it needs to be, so we get quite a bit of ice buildup that is now beginning to work its way inside, dripping from the window casings, and seeping through the stone work. In order to avoid interior damage, one has to get up on the roof and either cut a channel through the ice to the eaves, or completely remove the ice dam altogether. The latter is preferable, but if one gets a little too energetic with the axe, one ends up with holes in the roof, which of course, is not a desirable outcome. Due to other commitments this weekend, I am unable to attack the ice until Monday, so the thaw that's expected on Sunday could make a bit of a mess. Nonetheless, I am glad to see it coming. I can feel the difference in the air, and the creek out back is beginning to crack and snap as the ice slowly loses its grip. By Sunday, I'm sure we'll hear the water flowing once more.

In the book of Genesis, after the Flood had destroyed the earth, God promised that seedtime and harvest would not fail; the seasons would follow one upon the other forever. Sometimes it seems like the promise isn't going to make it, but it always comes. I think living in the northeast gives one an appreciation for Spring that perhaps others don't have. If you don't have to put up with three or four feet of snow and ice, slipping and sliding from ditch to ditch, bundling up like Ralphie's little brother, the coming of the equinox just doesn't pack the same punch as it does for us. So tonight, even though the snow is still piled high, and the cold returns with the darkening skies, I am thankful for the signs that spring is on its way, and Old Man Winter will soon be but a memory.