The Shed of Damocles

 

Accident waiting to happen

Every avalanche begins with a single snowflake;
 And my hope is to move a snowflake.

- Thomas Frey

The Shed of Damocles

Well. Our latest boat project has been idling for close to five months now... stalled on account of weather. Last year we were able to work through the winter for the most part, however inefficiently. Summer was unusually wet and cool. This winter, early and hard.

Sigh.

We were soooo close to finished when November of 2025 froze our bones in sub-freezing temps. and dumped three feet of snow on us. The fixed mill site (the building behind our tarp shed) had never let go its snow before, and we were content to believe it never would. Ordinarily, we'd go up and shovel it, but the roof is old and thin in places... if we can't see where to step, we could punch through. Even if not, we'd open up a hundred leaks we couldn't fix until clear and dry.

Our light tarp structure  is pitched steeply for the duration by lowering it's street-side posts. It can stand a deal of powder snow... maybe as much as a foot? We don't want to test its extremes, so clear it once or twice a day, avoiding any more than about 6in. More often if it's wet, since waterlogged snow is 10x as heavy.

Since it's not steep enough to shed snow, the procedure is as follows: 

• Throughout this process, shovel away past the outer, lower edge of the tarp to clear a space for snow coming down. If not, it stacks up and blocks it from shedding off the tarp.

1. Make a pass along the lower edge, shouldering upward to shake the bottom 1/4 or so down and off the tarp.
2. Use a smoothed T-pole to prod and shake the underside from the solid eaves down, shaking the top 1/2 down toward the bottom 1/2.
3. Go outside, and drag that lower 1/2 of snow down and off the roof, shaking the last remnants. 

This takes from 20 minutes to about an hour of hard work depending on depth, how dry, damp or wet the snow is, and how much snow is built up along the bottom. Past a certain depth, we have to move it toward either end of the 40ft span, or fling it across the 10ft road. 

Huff. Puff. Ain't as young as we used to be. I won't go into shoveling along town, houses we're watching, our boats and those we're watching or are unattended. But there ya go.

Eventually, there came cycles of thaw and rain and freeze in quick succession. The snow compacted and melted a bit, but formed an icy underbelly.

Finally, it blew a balmy 45degF winds through the open shop, melting the interface between ice and metal roof. The unmelted portion - a foot or so of ice and snow - was happy to ski downhill and onto our shed, wreaking a degree of mayhem; tearing our tarp and breaking a few rafters.

It warmed further, and we fixed out rafters and added the double layers of the blue tarp you see. They're water resistant, but are not as slick as the polyethylene underlayer. A little harder to clear.

But the warmth was transient... temps plummeted and the snow came again, building to back to its previous level, as shown in the lead pic. 

It's raining, again, with cold in the forecast. That upper roof might melt away without dumping, this time... certainly no ice along the bottom layer to sled it down. Who knows what the next cold spell will bring.

Five months lost so far... that's enough to build the boat in ideal conditions, all found.

Wah.

Yet, we grow stronger with every shovelful. We rest between pushes of effort, catching up on chores deferred and reading. It's a time to come together with friends for feast and laughter.

And oh, the winter-time is beautiful! The skies are glorious - furrowed in the laden cloud, or bright with crystal blue, or dancing auroral against the distant stars flung above the peaks. Snow flocks bush and tree and languishes in sensual curve and hollow. Frost feathers and heaves. Fog, frozen to ice mirrors from every branch. Our cheeks our ruddy and our breath smokes on the frigid air. Lovely!

But still... spring-time, anyone?