web powered by 
Home 
Opinion Columns Gopher Gulch: Soaking up the changes of autumn
Gopher Gulch: Soaking up the changes of autumn
|
We all like to think we know more than the next guy, and some can even predict coming events. I thought about that last Tuesday, and felt wise, even though I knew the wisdom was at least unconscious and probably delusional.
In last Tuesday’s column I had written that “summer is over.” It wasn’t an easy admission, since I’m a summer person by nature and we don’t get nearly enough of it. I sent the column in over the weekend, and so the pending storm was a complete surprise to me Tuesday morning, when the barometer plummeted and my ears began to pop. Summer over indeed! I don’t have television, don’t listen to the radio and take my weather as it comes. I just try to have emergency supplies on hand. Other than The Daily Triplicate, my source of news is a well-balanced weekly news magazine. The Week keeps me informed so I can vote responsibly on other than local issues, without subjecting me to a daily deluge of hysteria and a sense of helplessness. I’m one of the many fortunate residents of our area who suffered no storm damage whatsoever, if you don’t count the drips that developed into a waterfall that flowed from the top of a bedroom window. It was actually sort of pretty.
But if you’ve got a waterfall in the bedroom, you’ve got to stop the
noise. If you listen to that splattering racket, you’ll spend a
sleepless night worrying not only about the leak but about everything
else that might go wrong. So here’s how to muffle the noise while you
wait for the old wood to soak up enough water to swell, which usually
stops the leak.
Put a dishpan or bucket on the floor where the water ends up after ricocheting off the windowsill. A towel in the bottom of it will help with the silencing process. Fold one end of a strip of aluminum foil long enough to reach into the dishpan, over the edge of the sill. Put a folded towel on the sill with one end hanging down on the foil. The idea is to create a silent trickle rather than nerve-twanging rapids. Now the stream will flow silently into the thick towel, wick its way down the towel onto the foil and into the container on the floor. Gravity makes everything work, silence ensues, and as long as a tree doesn’t fall on the house, you’ll sleep like a baby. As this is written, I have every reason to believe the coming week will give us a nice break in the weather. It might be a good time to patch leaky roofs and do other repair jobs. If the jobs are beyond your ability, your finances or both, rearrange the furniture so the drips are at least in the most convenient spot. As long as the water doesn’t land on the piano or the computer that runs Polly the pellet stove, I’m just not gonna worry about it. |
