Yankee ingenuity saves the day

Those six months back in 1981 don’t count. My stint in Washington, D.C., which represents the only time I’ve lived outside of New England, ran from May through October of that year. So I can honestly say that I’ve spent all of my 60 winters in the Northeast, the last two dozen or so here in Maine.

Yet in all that time, I never tried to scare up a rake to clear snow from a roof.

Until yesterday.

Our 140-year-old house, which faces south, has a steep roof and gets enough sun to keep the buildup of snow under control, even this winter. (So far, at least.) The problem is our attached shed out back, on the north side of the house. Thanks to the near blizzards we’ve been getting, seemingly at 24-hour intervals, well over a foot of snow capped the shed’s roof yesterday morning. So I grabbed the phone.

First call: the hardware store around the corner.

"Do you have any roof rakes?"

“We’re all out and nobody else in Augusta has them either.”

Then, a big-box store.

“Sold out. They’re on order, though. Call back on Monday."

Finally, another chain retailer.

“Don’t have any, but we put in an order for two dozen of them. Should have them by the end of next week.”

The end of next week? I might not have a roof left to rake by then.

Immediate action was called for, but with no roof rakes to be had, what was an enterprising homeowner to do?

Improvise.

Scrounging around in the basement, I found a cobweb-covered extension pole that has one of those window-cleaning gizmos on the end of it. It looked pretty flimsy for the job at hand. But short of climbing up on the roof with a shovel, which I had no intention of doing, this seemed like the best option.

Heading outside, I lifted the pole to the roof, settled the squeegee onto the snow, and gave a tentative pull. A mini avalanche followed. This goofy idea actually worked! Within an hour, I’d removed at least half of the white stuff from the roof. The squeegee was shot to hell by then, but replacing it would cost a lot less than rebuilding the shed.

Yankee ingenuity. Sometimes, it's more than a tiresome cliché.