Friday, January 22, 2016

Quarter Inch...

January 22, 2016

Water will always find a way. This morning, the huge puff of snow drooping lazily from the eaves of our entry room was a picture right out of Currier and Ives. For those who aren't familiar with Currier and Ives, it also looked like Donald Trump's coiffure, only in white. I've left it hanging because it was so picturesque and I liked the looks of it. But when Linda was vacuuming the rug out there and noticed the seepage coming through the stonework where it meets the wooden window framing, I knew it was time, so up on the roof I climbed with snow shovel, ice spud, and eventually, an axe. The additional roof we had put on this summer has taken care of the icicles that hung like Damocles' sword over the doorway, but at the corners, it still built up to about six inches thick. I could go into a rant here about the expensive insulation we had installed that was supposed to take care of this problem, but it wouldn't do me or you any good.

The roof is strong enough to support the weight of the ice, but when it builds up at the edges, it forms an ice dam. What happens is, the heat from beneath the roof melts the bottom layer of snow, which turns to water that runs down to the eaves where because they are exposed to the cold air, it freezes. Bit by bit, it builds up as the heat from within keeps escaping, melting the snow, then freezing. But remember, water will find a way, and sooner or later, it seeps down the inner surface of the icicles and under the edge of the roof. If there is a way inside, and there usually is, it will find it, which is what happened in our entry room, and why I was up on the roof shoveling snow and chopping ice.

It is a delicate job. Too much axe and pieces of roofing shingles end up on the ground instead of the roof. Too little, and the ice just continues to build. The better way is to deal with it early on, which I didn't do. My grandfather was a horticulturist. He didn't merely have a green thumb; both hands were green, from thumbs to elbows. Years ago, he gave me a bit of wisdom that has served me well. "When weeding your garden," he said, "Quarter inch, quarter hour; half inch, half hour; one inch, all day." He continued. "Life works that way, too. Deal with stuff early."

I've ignored that advice to my own detriment. National leaders have ignored it to the detriment of millions. But tonight, I remember, and am grateful for my grandfather's wisdom. Pretty or not, I'm not letting it build up like this again.

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