Roof Worries

The groundhog did not see his shadow, so supposedly we will have an early spring. Hah! Even if we do, it will take till April to melt these ridiculous piles of snow. And now we're worried about the roof, so we're shoveling its contents into the yard. Our concern is not frivolous; garages, barns, and whole houses are collapsing all over the state from the weight of all this snow and ice, coupled with temperatures so low that nothing is melting. Well, only enough melting to create ice dams in the gutters and murderous frozen swords of Damocles over walks and driveways.

That's Ali clearing the back wing and Amir up on the front porch. At the rates local roofers are quoting, I figure they did over $1000 worth of work up there. No way I'm letting them up to the tip-top of the house (although they've done it multiple times when the roof tiles were not a sheet of ice).

Robert Frost was my father's favorite poet. I've been thinking a lot about this particular poem lately:

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.