Stormin’

I had all the windows and doors open on Friday, for the last time in 2014. Funny how I used to like the seasonal changes.

We moved to Vermont to get away from what I always called “Philly winter.” That was the season of slush and freezing rain.

Oh it did snow there in my corner of southeastern Pennsylvania, a lot sometimes, but interwoven with the times we skied or tobogganed down Turtleback, the big hill in the pasture that led down to Russell Jones’ pond, were the weeks of sorry slush soaking our boots and the ice to chip off the stone path. That part of the world gets only 27 inches of snow in an average year.

I thought more snow (and less slush) would be a good thing. Silly me.


I do remember two particularly memorable snowstorms.

The first, in 1950s Pennsylvania, closed Shiloh Road. I’ve never understood why the road builders did what they did but they made this story possible. See, our house sat on a broad, sloping lawn and was probably 35 feet in elevation above the main road. Our driveway sloped down to Shiloh which rose sharply to meet it, then cut a straight-and-narrow path deeply through the field to the Hays family home, the next house a quarter mile up the road. The banks of this cut touched the edge of the pavement. The banks were nearly vertical and 10-12 feet tall.

The snow blew straight across our field for what I remember as days and days and days but it was probably just a couple of and days. Not much had a chance to build up on that reach of pasture but It surely liked to nestle into the gorge.

The Township plow truck couldn’t make a dent in it.

The state plow truck couldn’t make a dent in it.

The front end loader couldn’t make a dent in it.

They’d all spend hours revving engines and gnashing gears but there was no place to put the snow.

That snow-filled gorge was no more than a quarter mile long but it was 10-12 feet deep and packed in tight by gravity, wind, and the attacking plow trucks.

A couple of the other troublemakers, my dad, and I all figured this was a pretty good excuse to practice engineering techniques. We tunneled it. We built fort walls. My mom made a lot of tomato soup and grilled a lot of sandwiches for us.

It took 10 days, but the state eventually trucked in the biggest snowblower I have seen to this day. It had a maw taller than my dad and enough diesel horsepower to throw the snow halfway across the field. It still took a couple of days to clear out the gorge.

The second great snow came to Vermont. It fell a day or two before we flew up on a house hunting trip in what should have been the early spring of 1978. We didn’t have a bit of trouble with snow on the roads — even then Vermont seemed to have a “clear road” policy. But a police officer in Alburgh did.

My enduring memories of that trip are the kids’ first flight in a private jet (the company I worked for had a Beechcraft King Air turboprop) and the sight of a police car.

We’ve all had the experience of seeing a police car zooming up behind us, light bar a-flashing. Drivers tense up a little. Passengers start chattering. Some people hunch down in their seats. Everybody looks straight ahead.

This was different.

This particular police car was buried in fresh snow up to its roof with just the “bubble” showing. I thought the officer should have lit it up so the plow trucks didn’t clip him.

The cloudier part of the year begins around October 4. Vermont averages an inch in May and October, and 102 inches for the year.

It snowed here in North Puffin yesterday. It’s only October and it snowed. The TV weather guy even showed photos. Me and my bare feet are heading for South Puffin, you betcha.

Feets of North Puffin
 

Wednesday Weather

El Niño

There is an expectation that 2014 will be an El Niño year, according to Mike Halpert of the U.S. Climate Prediction Center. It might be a weak El Niño. It might be a strong El Niño. It might be an average El Niño. We don’t know. But the solar deniers say Al Gore can predict the entire climate 50 or 100 or 500 years out and that’s settled.

El Ninnies.

Rewind

“There is no rewind button in life,” Jamie Lee Thurston told me.

No, but if there were I’d surely use it to redrain my pipes better last fall.

It was a rough winter in North Puffin. Fortunately, I was in South Puffin at the time. We had a difficulty with the frig. And the coffee maker. And it turns out we also had some plumbing issues.

SWMBO started the house back up after its winter hibernation and called to say, “There’s water running everywhere.”

Uh oh.

“Define ‘everywhere’,” I replied wisely.

Split, Leaky PipesAfter we got past that exchange, she told me there seemed to be a split in the PEX manifold from the water tank. Splits in the cold water copper pipe to the domestic water coil in the furnace. Some separated fittings in the hot water out from the same coil. A couple of burst fittings over here. Another one over there. And so on.

Last Fall, we were very, very careful. I installed a new water makeup to pump propylene glycol in the furnace. I filled all the fixtures with potable antifreeze. Every toilet and tank, every sink trap, every appliance. I drained the water system from the top down. I even completely drained the PVC pipes to the outdoor faucet and shower. Let me repeat that. I drained the water system from the top down. There should have been no water in those pipes anywhere.

Note to self: close the washer lid to keep the mice at bay. They like the sweet smell of antifreeze and then can’t get out. That does not make a pleasant homecoming. SWMBO will not clean it out. Mouses are man’s work.

It was a brutal winter. Even the cellar froze. I think even the water in the cistern froze and it has never frozen.

I may be a great mechanic but I AM™ the world’s lousiest solder jock.

I can blame 10% of that on my torch and 90% on my technique. I can almost always sweat a clean, empty fitting. I can almost never sweat a clean fitting that has ever had any water within a mile of it. Oh, I know the “drain the pipes” trick. I know the “push bread innit” trick. I know most of the tricks. I’m glad they work for you.

The pipes in the cellar apparently didn’t all drain then. And a stub line on the porch blew out. Apparently it didn’t all drain, either.

I started the repairs by repairing the outdoor pipes and extending the stub over to a new hose bib I installed near the kitchen door. I’m good with PVC. That gave us cold water at the kitchen. We have a nice 5 gallon jug (a square-ish, translucent, left over container of teat dip) but that is a PITA to lug up from the cellar.

Then I fixed the PEX. Everyone tells me PEX won’t swell and split when it freezes. PEX swells and splits when it freezes. I’m good with PEX.

Copper. Sweating. Oh, my.

The pipes in the cellar drained completely when they split. I started at the furnace end and simply worked my way back. I took out a rat’s nest of copper around the furnace; a real plumber had added a mixing valve (sometimes called a “tempering” valve) several years ago. It allegedly mixes COLD water in with the hot water to “ensure constant, safe shower and bath outlet temperatures, and preventing scalding.”

Horse puckey.

I’ve had it replaced twice and it has consistently given us a minute (somewhere in the cycle) of pure cold water in the shower. Plumber said it was code. Same plumber installed a “boiler drain valve” (a sweated in stop valve on the end of an open stub) pointed up. Up? I took the mixing valve out and plumbed the furnace outfeed directly to my shower (and the rest of the hot water service). Fewer joints. Cleaner. That opened the bottom of the tee up so I could hang his drain valve pointing down, at the lowest point of the hot water system. Replaced a blown out elbow in the cold water feed and used a tee in that line to install a new drain valve pointing down, at the lowest point of the furnace cold water system, too.

So I had worked my way back to the cellar wall by the crawlspace under the kitchen. I added shutoffs and drains where they should have been, so each leg could be independently controlled. Hot and cold water everywhere but the kitchen, baby!

I tried an air pressure test on the hot and cold lines running into the kitchen. The cold didn’t hold air at all. The hot pushed air back at me, so it may be sound beyond one blown out elbow. I desoldered that fitting, drained and cleaned the pipes, installed shutoff valves, and replaced the blown out fitting. One side didn’t take, something I didn’t learn until I foolishly turned the water back on.

That’s when my 1968 torch crapped out.

It’s always been a bit cranky in that it doesn’t necessarily shut down the propane bottle, but I could solve that by taking it off the bottle. Now the valve is just plain stuck. I don’t think operating a propane valve with pliers is very safe.

No local store carries the self-lighting Mag-Torch I want, so I ordered it online. It should be here tomorrow. Or Friday.

The water system continues to frustrate me in spite of getting it working everywhere but the kitchen. I still have to struggle with at least that blown fitting, I’ll have to crawl around in the crawl space, and I’m really nervous about the life expectancy of the furnace.

The 36-year old furnace started right up and has been running as it should, but it is 36-years old and it lives in a dirt floor cellar.

Harper’s Second Law: Rust Never Sleeps.

At least we got to shower!

We changed the sheets, too.

I know there is an end to this job somewhere but I’m not getting anything on my own list done.

SWMBO is happy to have water in the rest of the house so now the fact that the coffee maker makes coffee but doesn’t keep it warm is at the top of her list.

I suspect the coffee maker is a separate issue from all the freeze damage.

 

A Message of Faith

Yesterday was Easter Sunday. Tomorrow is Earth Day. In between, we can find a message of faith.

“God has the last word,” Timothy Cardinal Dolan, Archbishop of New York, reminded television viewers yesterday.

One of those last words has long been, Don’t poop where you perch.

I saw Hurricane Hazel annihilate a larch tree in my front yard. I saw the 1998 ice storm decimate the forests around North Puffin. I watched Hurricane Wilma drown my South Puffin neighbors and Irene flood and sink and forever change the southern half of Vermont.

That was a more than a little bit of rain.

I’ve watched pilots shoot flares of silver iodide and dry ice, and liquid propane, and even table salt into a cloud in a vain hope of making it give up just a little bit of rain.

Rainmaking attempts go way back. A typical Tübatulabal shaman’s rain making bundle contains the all important quartz crystals plus charm stones, biface fragments of obsidian, a fossil fish vertebra, pebbles, some stibnite, milky quartz, and steatite, a small tobacco bag, a piece of rawhide, some plant material tied with a bit of denim, some soil and a denim sack. Oddly, the great southwestern American desert is still a desert in spite of those best efforts to make rain.

I’d say nature has the other last word over man.

Lily -- the Flower of Easter(from the Moon) Earth -- the Flower of ScienceToday, rain isn’t (quite) the issue. Temperature is. Over the millennia, the climate has and does change as solar activity varies, the magnetic poles shift, the moon wobbles, and Earth’s axis tilts a few degrees one way or the other. Right now, the planet is cooling (slightly) from what the alarmists said was the all time high but it had been rising precipitously. Despite the alarmists, it hasn’t gotten as warm as during Roman and Medieval times, but it is warmer than 100 years ago.

There are two schools of thought about what drives global warming. On the one side are a small but growing number of scientists who have found wider swings in the fossil record before homo sapiens walked upright. They’re looking at drivers like the sun now. On the other side are a large number of scientists who believe man and only man has driven every variation in planetary temperatures. They’ve stopped looking for the drivers.

The U.N.-operated sanctioning body, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, says it is too late. They arrived at this conclusion not by making startling new discoveries but by tweaking the data they already have.

But wait! We can fix it if we just give up meat and cars and our iPhones!

Those who pray at the altar of Al Gore have faith that man has the last word over nature.

Humans
Unaware of
Basic
Real
Icky
Science

The solar deniers who pray at the altar of Al Gore tell us that “the science is fixed” but all we have to do is return to the Stone Age and the planet may get back to normal. After all, those biface fragments of obsidian (“stone knives” to the rest of us) brought a lot of rain to the desert, they did.

I have great faith in two certainties: good science and man’s hubris.

Tomorrow is Earth Day. I have great hope that good science will triumph over great hubris in the long run. Day-to-day? I’m not so sure.