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A Moment In Time. January 17, 2011

Posted by littlebangtheory in Art and Nature, Love and Death.
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12 comments

Yesterday, in an effort to deal with water leaking into the house through an upstairs window, I got a really large extension ladder out of the barn and, despite protests from my non-functional shoulders, set it up against the ice-berm at the front of the house.  The mission was simple: rake the snow off the roof and remove the ice dam without dying.

Now, as a charter member of the Pansy’s Club, I’m all over that “not dying” clause, whether it holds legal water or not.  So I looked up (a LONG WAY UP) at that ladder resting on a rail of ice and went back out to the barn, returning with a greasy looking utility rope, doubtless one of Lizz’s old climbing ropes which had been retired to Yard Duty.  I fixed one end of it to an outdoor faucet (hey, it was around two corners, so friction would be my friend) and the other to a small shrub near our fair-weather fire pit (ditto on the friction there) and took the middle up-ladder, pulling it tight and securing things about where I thought they ought to be.

So up I went, roof rake and three pound sledge in hand(s) to deal with The Issue.  I got most of the roof cleared from one position, though there was a good deal of leaning and lateral force involved, and I was glad to be tied off, albeit to sketchy anchors.

Then, just as I was (delicately) attacking the ice berm/dam at the lip of the slate roof, a huge gust of wind caught me, sending the ladder four feet to the right and ending up all akimbo at a crazy angle…  I came to a soft halt, Thank You Jesus, and thanks to my sketchy but sufficient anchors.

With limbs quivering from the adrenalin I regained the roof’s edge, planting the roof rake and hammer in the slush of the remaining ice dam, and took a deep breath.

I looked around to compose myself.

Over my left shoulder, the wind turbine atop Berkshire East ski area had begun spinning, sending a message of local self-sufficiency back through the grid.

To my right, above the newly snow-free ridge line of our house, a fat gibbous moon was rising; and from a tree delineating our eastern property line, a huge eagle was just taking flight!

I swear, a big fatty eagle, with a wing span that looked like five feet.  It circled me once, then headed down river.

Call me a liar, or call me a slacker for not having my camera at hand, but hey, I was busy.

I finished the task at hand and got the ladder back in the barn without incident, though I have to admit that I was pretty hosed by the time it was all over.

And miracle of miracles, the leaking window stopped being bad.

And so it goes, and so it goes.