Reflections on the Fourth Week of Summer – Ladder Work

Sparky Spraying Soap and Chlorine - John Steadying Ladder

Walking between the white pines toward the back of the log house last summer, I recoiled at the blackened wood siding above the porch. “We should hire someone to stain the house.”

My husband Spence waved his hand in dismissal. “I can do it.”

More than I wanted the wood maintained, I didn’t want seventy-year-old Spence on a ladder thirty feet off the ground. “You don’t have time. You’re busy with the garden, cutting firewood, and volunteering in Cleveland to make houses lead safe.”

“I’ll get around to it.” He squinted at the logs. “I’ll have to buy a longer ladder though.”

For a year, I watched his red pickup return from Home Depot trips without a longer ladder and sighed with relief. Then, at the end of May, I overheard him leave a message for someone to come and give him an estimate on bleaching and staining the logs on the front of our house. I tiptoed to the bedroom, shook my fists, and mouthed a silent YES!

So, when gravel crunched in the driveway this past Monday morning, I hustled outside to welcome the contractors.

Sparky stepped from his pickup cab and grinned, “Good morning, Miss Janet.”

John, Sparky’s wiry assistant, jumped down from the passenger side, ran his hand over his crew cut, and nodded.

“Great to see both of you.” I put my hands behind my back and crossed my fingers. “May I take photos of you working?”

“Yes.” Sparky’s grin widened. “Before and after pictures would be good. I can put them up on my website.” He chuckled. “Besides, I’m the one behind the camera. I never get photos of me.”

After they positioned ladders at the front of the house and started work on the logs, I grabbed my camera, stepped onto the porch, and got a whiff of chlorine.

“Hi, Miss Janet.” Sparky, wearing a bandanna on his bald head, perched on a ladder by the porch railing. “Today is wash day.” He pressed his hefty body against the ladder, held the sprayer in one hand, and, with the other hand, squirted soap-bleach solution onto the blackened wood above his head.

John stood near the basement door and braced the ladder.

I aimed the camera and caught the washing photo then walked to the other side of the house, the front of the garage, and back of the garage to take the before photos for Sparky’s website.

Comfortable that the guys from Sparky’s Handyman Services had the ladder situation under control, I drove to the YMCA for lap swim. When I returned, John balanced on a ladder outside the loft window on the bedroom side of the house. He caulked woodpecker and carpenter bee holes.

I hustled inside, exchanged the swim bag for my camera, and hustled back to John.

John glanced down at me. “I’m glad you didn’t get me on the other side of the house.” He squeezed the caulk gun. “The ladder on the other side was real wobbly at first. It took some getting used too.”

Sparky fetched a rag from his pickup in the driveway, wiped his hands, and grinned at me.

Maneuvering my position to avoid the glare of the sun shining off the metal roof, I aimed the lens at John.

John Caulking Bedroom Side of House

“If I fall,” he called from the peak, “make sure you get some frames of me coming down.”

Recalling the solar installation workers who’d joked about using my photos for insurance claims, I said, “For the insurance company?”

John laughed.

Sparky said, “I’ll hang the pictures in the office with a sign saying This is what not to do.”

I chuckled, went inside, and recited the conversation for Spence.

He took a swig of carbonated water. “John is petrified of ladders. Sparky told me. Then John told me.”

Petrified of ladders yet climbed them anyway? I’m fine on the top of a two-step step stool. Just looking up at Sparky’s thirty-two foot ladder was enough adventure for me. John was brave―or desperate for work.

Through the kitchen window, I spied Sparky on the ground behind the garage. He turned on the compressor and extended the wand of his power washer to twenty-five feet.

Wouldn’t the ground job be better for John? Carrying my camera, I followed the hose connecting the incoming water tank in the house basement to the power sprayer behind the garage.

Sparky picked up the wand, waved it, and kept the nozzle about a foot from the wood. His arm muscles bulged.

Maybe John didn’t have the strength to wield the power sprayer.

On Tuesday, Froggy Radio’s country music accompanied the two while they emptied seven tubes of caulk into critter drilled holes and spread natural pine WeatherSeal on the front of the garage.

Thursday afternoon they stained the back of the garage.

John and Sparky Staining Back of Garage

Early Friday morning I sorted laundry to the repeated metallic rattle of the long ladder adjusting and its thump against the wall above the porch.

Midmorning, when I walked out with the camera, John called from his perch by the loft window to Sparky on the ground steadying the ladder. “We need to shorten the ladder.” John stepped down four rungs.

“Okay.” Sparky looked up. “I can do it while you’re on it.”

John stepped down three more rungs. “Go ahead.”

Sparky wouldn’t. Would he?

John climbed to porch railing level.

“Oh, oh. A wind’s coming up.” Sparky shook the ladder.

I gasped.

Sparky chortled. “Miss Janet’s more upset then your are, John!”

John stepped to the ground. “I braced myself. I wasn’t worried.”

Late afternoon, after they finished staining the bedroom side of the house, Sparky wrote an invoice at the kitchen table while I wrote a check. He handed me the invoice. “If you want, I can stain the sides for you.”

“Spence wants to do the sides. If he doesn’t get them done in two years, I’ll call you.” I handed Sparky the check. “The house looks wonderful. You did a great job. Thanks.”

Sparky nodded and shook my hand.

After Spence and I waved goodbye to the contractors, he patted my shoulder. “While you were in the house with Sparky, John said they were thinking of hiring some Amish kids to help with the work.”

I stared at the peak of the log house and rejoiced at the sight of clean, golden logs. Maybe the Amish kids would do the ladder work.

Front of House Cleaned and Stained