Well, in this case it wasn’t the sky I was reaching for, but the rusted iron blocking it out. My job today was to help my sister re-roof the old pottery studio at her house. The iron was rusted right through in places, and looked like aged brown lace, and covered with about 10 years worth of fallen leaves and twigs from the gum trees surrounding it.
It took several hours just to remove the 5 sheets of iron, since we didn’t actually have the proper tools (a single blade electric hacksaw would have made short work of those nails), only hammers and a pry-bar, determination and sheer stubborn woman power! Who would have though brown lace rusted iron could put up such resistance.
Much whacking and thumping with hammers ensued several times whilst trying to break the bonds of long held affection between rusty iron and old hardwood. In a silent death struggle with a recalcitrant nail that did not want to leave the security of it’s home of 20 years, I smacked myself in the cheekbone with the rubber end of the hammer. It hurt like hooly-doo, but luckily I didn’t break anything (hammer included).
After a short respite for lunch we returned to the fray and put up the new colourbond roof. Putting up the new sheeting had it’s own challenge, being that we needed to reach waaaay over the sheet to secure the overlap on the previous sheet. Now, I am not a fan of heights and ladders, but bravely managed to share turns at doing the 2 nearest edges, whilst my fearless older sister climbed right up on top of the ladder and drilled the hex heads into the roofing. I contributed to this marvelous feat by holding her feet on the ladder! – well, except for the time she half crawled on the roof to reach one particular frustrating spot! Madness, brave, foolhardy madness.
I loved the feeling of satisfaction that finishing the roof gave to me, and my sister felt so happy as she had been wanting to do this job for many, many years. It’s great when you can cross one of the to-do-list!