The best time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining. – Brad D. Smith

If you think you can do it, you can.

– John Burroughs

Winds whistled around the corners of the house; the sky was dark. It was sure to mean more tree limbs down and added to the burn pile. The burn pile grows ever bigger with each passing week. Either the ground and the pile are too wet from repeated rains or the surrounding grasses and leaves are dried from blustering winds and occasional days of warm sunshine. A few days after that turbulent night, Sam came in from the greenhouse to announce one of the roof panels had been rolled back to the ridge cap leaving a 4×8 gaping hole. Plants were exposed to strong winds and dropping temperatures but all in all they looked pretty hardy.

While I was pleased the plants had not been damaged, there were other concerns. I had a bad feeling this was going in a very uncomfortable direction. In the last few years, I’ve asked Sam to avoid two things — roofs and ladders. I could see right away we were going to be dealing with roofs and ladders. “It has to be done,” Sam said. He began to call around to hardware and home improvement stores. Then he was off for supplies which would include a 10-foot metal panel.

Within an hour he had lined up his tools and supplies along with a six-foot ladder, a 10-foot ladder, and an extension ladder he inherited from his father 50 years ago. At this point I appointed myself his handy assistant.

The angle of the roofing was about 45 degrees and slick. Securing the panel would require removing a portion of the ridge cap. Out came the extension ladder. I placed my feet at the bottom, held the ladder and prayed. When Sam left the ladder and straddled the ridge cap, I felt my pocket for my phone ready to dial 911 at any moment. I would frequently check my pocket gripping the phone.

Sam wrestled atop the ridge cap, he asked for something for him to sit on, it was becoming quite uncomfortable. I ran to the porch and grabbed a floor mat. It was rubber on one side. Rubber would add a little traction. Now I would be climbing the 50-year-old ladder to the edge of the roof and hurling the mat up to Sam. I rolled the mat tight and threw it toward him. The third toss was a charm.

Under the rolled panel wood bracing had rotted. Sam would have to leave the ridge cap and slide further down the roof at an angle. It looked iffy. He used the mat again as an anchor. I handed up the supplies. The braces were cut out and replaced. 

He scooted back up the ridge cap. I slid the 10-foot panel up to him. It fit perfectly and the ridge cap was reattached. When everything was in place all the screws were replaced. Down came the ladders, all the tools, and Sam. Two things I learned that day. You can’t keep a good man down, and I’m far more capable than I had believed.

Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].