Up on the Rooftop

I told myself not to climb on the roof anymore after I turned 60, but once again I didn't listen to my own advice.

I remember climbing up the big sturdy yellow ladder in the back of the house in July. I pulled on some vines that were growing up the drain spout and were starting to climb over the edge of the roof. Dislodging a nest of some species of flying things with stingers that had taken up residence in a crack between the roof and the house, I received one very painful sting on an exposed ankle by an outraged bee creature. I also squeezed a bee while deadheading a dahlia at the church garden in September. I am not at all allergic, but yet again, experienced intense pain for about fifteen minutes. Two stings for a whole season outdoors is tolerable, I suppose and I had only my own foolish behavior to blame.

This past week I once again ventured up onto the roof. It was slippery with all the leaves and littered with honey locust tree pods. I literally maneuvered on my butt as I neared the edge. Wearing latex gloves and old clothes, I carefully slid along the roof line removing sticks and other debris from the gutters. At one point I realized that the shingles seemed to be a little bit rougher than one would expect. I checked below and discovered that I had worn a hole through my old paint pants and through my Hanes. I was sliding around on my bare butt! Fortunately I received only superficial injuries to one "cheek." 

When am going to leave the leaves alone and reserve the roof for Santa's reindeer? But who shall help me? I have used gas leaf blowers and hoses with powerful sprayers, which is messy and fun (I have previously mentioned how I love wasting water), but the equipment makes the task even more awkward and requires standing up near the edge! I know, hire the pros, you say.

 We recently had our berber carpets cleaned. The professionals with their trucks and hydraulic-driven system for suction, with water heated to 180 degrees, did a really nice job. It was a Dutch owned company, a 6'4" Dutch workman, and my carpet is now dutch clean! I wonder if I should pay to have a dutch clean roof.

Next year: if I am old enough to collect money from the government, I am old enough to stay off the roof. This house was for sale 20 years ago because the previous owner fell off a ladder and died! (Not at this location, thankfully). After his death, his wife no longer wanted to live here. When we first looked at the house with our real estate agent, we noticed a picture of my husband's former pastor on the fireplace mantle. It was the widow's father. This odd occurrence seemed to be a sign, pointing us to the purchase of the property. So, for better or for worse, here we are--with trees falling, and leaves and poo-colored pods littering our house and yard, plugging our gutters. But yet: this is our home.

Rooftop View of Honey Locust Tree--a few pods remaining