It was really windy today. Things were whipping around in our backyard like crazy. It always amazes me that our dirty old inflatable beach ball is still out there when we go looking.
There’s a weird downdraft at the top of our back wall that prevents stuff from escaping. It doesn’t prevent them from dancing violently on the ground until the wind dies down though. The beach ball never leaves home, but it sure does cha cha.
Wind like this always makes me think of my dad. When I was little, a windy day usually meant Dad would be climbing onto the roof to check that nothing had blown off and away.
We had a long aluminum ladder that he would lean against the wall behind the garage. Up he would climb. Sometimes my brothers and I got to go with him. It was truly a great adventure and treat – doing something dangerous with my dad. Looking back on that with my grown-up eyes, I see now that the whole thing probably made both of my parents very nervous.
Having the three of us so keen to walk the edges of the open roof was worrisome enough, but finding wind damage would mean money, time, and inconvenience.
Dad climbed the ladder fearing the worst, I suppose. And he always took his tools in hope he could fix things himself.
My dad was a true DIY pioneer back then. He taught the three of us how to hammer nails, use a saw, and improvise, whenever we could. On the roof. In the wind. Even in the rain. Eventually though, Dad’s age and declining mobility would keep him on the ground and away from that ladder.
Husband and I are lucky enough to have sturdy clay tiles on the roof of our own house. We don’t worry that the wind will mess with them much. I wish my dad had experienced that same peace of mind when he was my age.
Then again, I’ll bet he really enjoyed showing us around the top of the world. 🙂
P.S. Someone just knocked on my front door. I peered through the peephole and spied a well dressed man whom I didn’t recognize. I did not answer the knock. What’s your policy? Do you answer when it’s someone you don’t know?
P.P.S. And for your viewing pleasure, here is something I didn’t buy from the thrift store this month. Ha!
Becky, The ongoing roof repairs over the years including the tar streaming down the adjacent trees will always be with me.
Regarding the knock on the door: Sometime I’ll have to tell you the story about a knock on our door, a stranger, Claire, and one of my shotguns.
Hahaha I had forgotten about the tar down the trees! So funny. And yes, I’m going to ask you about that shotgun story!
One wild rainy night about 2 A.M. I realized that your Father was up and obviously preparing to go up on the roof to try and fix the hole that was making rain run down the inside of the hall closet!!! I absolutely panicked and started yelling that under no circumstances was he going to get up on that ladder in this terrible rainstorm. I shouted that we could always get a new roof, but we could not get a new Father. He argued back for a while and then decided to wait. He was mad at me, but I always thought that he was probably secretly relieved that I made such a fuss and prevented his going. The next day he found the hole and patched it.
Yes, thank you for arguing him on that one, Mama! heh heh