As were so many others, our house was hammered by hail some weeks back. It came down so hard it sounded like a machine gun set on blast. We stood under the cover of our back porch and watched for a while…long enough to see it pile up in heaps on the patio. “Oh no,” my husband groaned, “We’ll be needing a new roof again.” In all my years (and there have been plenty) I have never before seen hail stones as large as baseballs, never until then! I was fascinated and ventured out into the yard to collect three to freeze. Not sure why I wanted them or why I was so foolish to risk a concussion to become a proud owner. With my arms crossed over my head I dauntingly tiptoed among the puny golf ball size variety and pitiful half dollar masses. Still, small wonder I didn’t land on my assets.
If it hadn’t been so sad, it might have been entertaining to watch the geese huddle and scurry from one direction to the other in an effort to escape the onslaught of hail stones. What geese? We have a small pond behind out house which is home to nearly 70 of our feathered friends. They often graze on the grassy area behind us near the water’s edge. But this day their grazing came to a quick end when Mother Nature had no mercy on their poor plumed heads. There was literally nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
Over the course of the next few days the chimes of our front door bell got a real work out. Roofers came out from the woodwork wanting our business. One nice fella suggested we put a sign on our front door indicating we already had hired a company. That way we wouldn’t be bothered anymore. In fact, we had already decided to go with the folks who put on our last five roofs…they just hadn’t placed a sign in the yard as yet. Their workmanship was excellent on each occasion and we considered them the best.
I hope by the time this is read my thoughts from the last roof replacement will be distant memories of dread:
OMG what a headache. If you’ve never lived through one of these you can’t understand what a disruption it is. If you dare go outside you’re liable to get hit on the head with nails or plastic covering or pieces of shingles. If you stay inside, from overhead, you endure what sounds like “The Gun Fight at the OK Corral.” When they drop huge bundles of the shingles on the roof the house quivers. The riotous roar from the air compressor that feeds the nail guns is but a hum compared to the relentless rat-ta-tat-tat and pounding of hammers. It put me in mind of a woodpecker on steroids. Unfortunately, the roofers have to disconnect the DISH while they do the repairs. This adds insult to injury negating a TV at which to stare. Overall, it truly is a raucous and very annoying process.
On the bright side it will only last a couple of days. On the down side it will be weeks before I quit finding nails and shards of shingles. It will be months before it’s safe to go barefoot in the yard. While I complain I’m thinking about the poor roofers…105 degrees on the ground. Yet they’re up on the roof with that black tar material and the sun beating down. And not a breath of air and long sleeves they must wear.
In case you’re wondering about the three stones I froze…
I kept them around so the grandkids would know
That baseball size hail isn’t merely a fable.
It comes when weather conditions are able.
They each held a ball in the palm of their hand
And watched as it melted to a size not so grand.
“Can we take them home, CiCi to show all our friends?”
And so my dear readers, that’s where this story ends!
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