If It’s Winter, We’re up on the Roof

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Iowa, life in the meadow, The Contrarian, winter, wood stoves

First let me say, nobody fell off the roof! It was calamitous, but no injuries were sustained. Mostly. That we know of yet. We hope.

Okay, let me start again.

Last year we had big problems with our wood stove–it commenced to smoke up the house to intolerable levels and the wood wasn’t burning much.  We figured the chimney was in need of a cleaning.

Our friend, Steve, had the equipment, so up on the roof he went and discovered that it was the cap that was all creosoted up and not letting the air out. We ditched the cap, and voila` the smoke cleared, the house warmed, and after some days of literally dousing the cap with gas and burning it, it was cleaned, and then replaced.

We started, a few days ago, having difficulty with the wood burning. Since there wasn’t much smoke, we thought the wood had gotten soaked by the rains. But it never seemed to dry. Finally, this morning, the Contrarian announced that it was back up on the roof.

I shuddered and shook my head. “NO! No way are you going up there on that roof. We just got 4 inches of snow and there is ice underneath that.”

“Look,” he said, “there really is no choice here. Either I go up there and take off the cap, or this will get worse and we will not only be smoked to death, we will be cold while doing it. So either support me, or continue to help me be scared. It’s not like I want to do it.”

“Okay,” I muttered.

To make a long story short, he climbed up, scooted to the chimney, pulled the cap, and got down with no difficulties. We walked back into the house and were heading to the living room, when whoosh, and bam, he was flat on his back, having had his work-booted feet go out from under him. His back took the brunt, and then his head.

So far, all seems well, except for a stiff neck. He’s using a heating pad to hopefully head off further stiffness. He wore work boots because they were lighter and thus easier to swing up onto the roof and back onto the ladder. If you’ve ever done this feat, you know it requires a certain throwing caution to the wind and just doing it. Alas the work boots aren’t made for walking on linoleum when snow packed.

Ain’t winter just grand?

Yeah, we got four inches of the white stuff. Over night. I got up early this morning and cleaned the back steps off, and went around and cleared off the bird feeder. The chickadees and Juncos were puzzled where their food was. I didn’t see they had brought any tiny shovels, so I figured to assist them with a broom.

We anticipated that this might be the case, since the weather guessers weren’t even willing to do much in the realm of guessing as to what we might get. Anywhere from two to six. Nice range. Meaning anywhere from no problem to no moving for us.

So yesterday I zoomed off to the grocery store and got the vittles for the balance of the year. Mostly I got the ham and some fingery foods for New Year’s Day. The Contrarian is scheduled for a physical therapy session on Monday, but we’ll cancel if we can’t get out, obviously. We will probably get some sense of that tomorrow.

I’m okay if we are socked in for a couple of weeks actually. I have plenty to do. I’ve got at least five books backed up for review, so I’m doing a lot of reading these days. I should get back to knitting but so far haven’t had the urge.

I have biscotti and truffles and chocolate coated peanuts, almonds,  pecans, and walnuts to make. I’m cooking a lot. I made 41 meatballs this morning, finishing them up after the roofing adventure. I’ve got sauce simmering on the stove. I’m looking forward to that!

All in all it’s been a good day, except for the Contrarian’s upending. Cozy, we are.

Lots of good movies in the can. We have another disaster movie to see. This one is called “Ice Quake”. We saw one last week about a comet which breaks off a chunk and hits in Alaska and throws off the pole orientation and threatens our cosmic ray shield. But a big old hydrogen bomb in the Mariana Trench saves the day. Destruction galore! It was better than we expected.  

Nothing is better than a good old disaster movie, except for really bad sci-fi movies from the 50’s or so.

Well, enough of my babbling. It’s on to bigger and better things!

What’s on your mind today?

This CAN Be Your Life!

Tags

Iowa, life in the meadow, snow, winter, wood stoves

You are surely tired of listening to me moan, and I am just as surely tired of having so much to moan about. After all, nobody every said that “life was a bowl of cherries.” You can ponder the meaning of that trite phrase, while I proceed to well, errrr, moan.

Just when you think it can’t get a lot worse, you betcha, it does. I related at least on Facebook that on the way out on the lane, we got stuck on Ash Wednesday, and had to hump our way back to the house, along most of the entire one half mile that we lovingly call our lane.

You would think that that would be enough. You see, nobody really “gets” why we are always claiming that we are “snowed” in. I mean, to most anybody, an inch is hardly a big deal when it comes to snow. But when it is blown across a couple of miles of open field, and suddenly slams into a tree line courtesy of a 25 mph wind, well, it ends up being more like eight for us.

So we called a local fellow, whom the Contrarian has known all his life, and arranged for him to come  over in the morning, and blow the snow elsewhere than the car width we needed to get free of the winter grip. We then enjoyed the evening, watching the Olympics. Famous last word, ENJOY.

I was wakened the next morning to “It’s seven, babe, you better stay in here, the stove is smoking a lot.” I cursed, and brought to mind Dorothy Parker, and got up to investigate the “fresh hell” that awaited. Indeed, a cloud of smoke hung in the living room and into the kitchen. The Contrarian was ensconced in his office with door shut. He looked glum.

“I have no idea what is wrong now, but it won’t stop smoking.” And indeed, it was bursting through the seams of the stove pipe at an alarming rate. Before long, I realized that such could not continue, and I opened the front door, got a floor fan, and started sucking it out into the meadow. That of course, cooled the room significantly since it was all of about 4 degrees outside. Balmy huh?

We finally opened the wickedly mean device, and started hauling out partially embered wood into the ash tray and carting it out and throwing it into the snow, listening to it sizzle. Well, it’s one way to melt snow I guess. Finally, having lost all its combustibles, the smoking stopped.

We waited. I sat at the kitchen table, with a room heater going, and drank coffee, and watched the top of the hill, ready to give the alert when Joe’s blower would send cascades of snow flying through the air. That didn’t happen until nearly 11 am. Then the Contrarian squeezed in beside him, and they returned down to the Bronco and unstuck it. Soon, transportation returned to the house.

A trip to another buddy, and we had an extension ladder and a chimney brush. Steve climbed up and got the cap off the chimney. “Crank it up Parker, get that fire going as hot as you can.” A wide open bedroom window was our means of communication. I stood outside and yelled in “Crank it up Parker”. . . well you get the idea. Soon the smoke was billowing out the chimney, the Contrarian crowed, “she’s drawing like a champ!” Dark smoke poured forth, and the cap, sitting on its side, on top, began to melt creosote which Steven scraped off in chunks.

After a good bit of this, he sent the roto rooter chimney brush down into the belly of the beast. That caused smoking to start again indoors, since the flue was now jammed with lots of soot. Off with the top, and clearing of that, all the while the doors are flung wide once more.

The cats have retreated to an icy cold bedroom, and look utterly ticked off at the whole affair. The dogs find the house finally nice and pleasant for them. I’m wondering why the West was ever settled, since this crap is totally unacceptable to any woman surely. There is a reason the dude said, “Go west, young man.” He did not say, “Go west, young woman.” Women know better. He’d have been hit with a parasol for sure.

Well, eventually, the creosote stopped running, and the stove continued drawing, and the heat exchange between outside and inside started to favor staying indoors for warmth once more. Steve returned home, nobody fell off the roof, and I escaped down the luge track to drive to Center Point, a nearby village. Actually village is too kind, its a sprawly town, with no decent “main street.” But it does have a McDonalds.

After all this fun, I was good for nothing but (hanging head in shame) fast food. So things are normal for the moment. And, wonder of wonders, praise be to God, and kick the can, things are still normal today. It’s warm, its not smokey, and I went shopping.

You see, there is another “inch” predicted tonight, and they are being very coy about the next system coming in Sunday through Monday. I think this is the winter that will never end, but if it does, well, I’m going to shake my fist proudly at having survived the unholy winter of  09/10.  Bragging rights are mine–I may have a t-shirt made.

In the meantime, anyone interested in 80 acres of real estate in Iowa? Fifty prime growin’ land, and thirty in meadow. Just tell yourself that the beauty outweighs the minor inconveniences you might face. Yeah, tell yourself  THAT, please.