Two and a half months after our house received a new roof (mid-March, 2018), we experienced one hellacious hail storm. On the afternoon of June 2, the promised “spring showers” turned into fifteen minutes of relentless hail raining down. Fierce winds, sheets of rain, brilliant blue lightning bolts, and cracks of thunder accompanied the hail storm. Most of the hail was fairly large, the size of very large marbles; larger than a quarter, but smaller than a half-dollar. But, occasionally, a hail stone the size of an egg would crash onto the deck and ricochet from deck board to siding to metal table. I spent the entire time outside, on the metal-roofed screened porch (not especially bright, I realize in hindsight). The sound of hailstones hitting the roof was, on occasion, deafening as the large stones smashed into the metal. After just a few minutes, hail stones of various sizes littered the deck. It looked a little like we’d had a light snow that had begun to melt.
After the storm had let up, I sent a text to the roofer who had installed our new roof, asking him to come take a look; I wanted to know if the storm had ruined our brand new roof. He responded immediately and said he would take a look the following day (which was yesterday). While my wife and I were out and about, after church, he sent another text. He had examined the roof. “I didn’t see any significant damage to your roof…you do have some cosmetic dings to your turbines and gutter covers, but it’s nothing that should cause any concern.” I’m pleased the storm didn’t do any significant damage, but I wish the storm had attacked the old roof, before we got it replaced.
If I could, I would take action to ensure that no more hail will fall on our roof. But I can’t. So I won’t worry about it.