Saturday morning saw a thin layer of ice on this stream where I am trapping.

October 29, 2012 – Monday

16 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

Once again, there’s a happy fire crackling away this morning. I don’t want a happy fire… it’s cold in here. I want a big, mean, ol’ aggressive blaze that will redden the stove in protest. It’s 16 degrees outside my window, 56 in inside. I should have gotten up an hour ago so the house could be warm before Sargie rises for the day. Oh well, time to turn up the thermostat on the furnace.

Sunday was an absolutely gorgeous day, almost picture perfect. After writing, I started out on my five-mile hike, enjoying every step of the way. Sometimes, I think I have the Forrest Gump Syndrome. I start walking and would like to keep going. Where I don’t know… just keep walking until I get to wherever it is my feet take me.

I checked my empty traps and satisfied I had no critters to skin, returned home to flop in my recliner to watch the beginning of the Packers game against Jacksonville.

The entire contest was ugly and simply put, if the Packers weren’t playing such a lousy team, they’d have been beaten. We’re going to have to shape up before the meat of the season arrives, games against Chicago, Detroit, and Minnesota. If not, Aaron, Clay, Donald, Randall, and Tommy P will be watching the Super Bowl on television dreaming about next year.

We met Sargie’s youngest, Macrea, at her old house and began moving anything the boys wanted to his brother’s pickup truck. While Sargie cleaned and scrubbed the kitchen appliances, I ran the vacuum sweeper, steamer, and carpet cleaner. Macrea sorted through many of his childhood memories, deciding into which pile each should be placed.

I think as we grow, stages of our lives are often defined in plateaus. I witnessed his reaching a new one yesterday when he realized his mother was giving him back many of his childhood mementos, clothes, an old trophy, an art project, perhaps a toy or video game.

I well remember years ago, well into my twenties, when Mom gave me the last vestige of my childhood, my second grade Think and Do book. I felt exactly as I think Macrea did yesterday.

I held the Think and Do book in both hands with the feeling that in some misbegotten way, Mom didn’t love me as much as she had when I was a wiggly student in Mrs. Johansen’s second grade room. I soon learned it was really Mom’s way of saying, “I love you more than ever. Good for you! Good for us!! You’re all grown up and have earned the right to go forth and make your own place for all life’s treasures.” Most importantly, I came to understand that a parent’s love doesn’t diminish with age, it continues to grow, but manifests itself in different ways. Mom doesn’t wipe my nose anymore, but that doesn’t mean she loves me any less.

We arrived home well after dark. With Sargie manning the wheel, we stopped in Iron Mountain long enough to grab a quick burger then continued on to dodge deer all the way to Pentoga.

Last evening was spent putting away the last remnants of the move, mostly cleaning supplies, a shelf, some ceramic angels, and the like. We’ll be finding homes for much of Sargie’s and my belongings in the weeks to come as we continue to meld our two lives into one. We both have said, this our last move in this lifetime, for either of us! The next time our adult possessions are displaced, it will be by our sons.

Today will bring a continuation of cutting the sapling popple trees in back and chipping them into mulch. The entire week is to be clear and cold, perfect for working outside.

Later this week, I’ll take the old pickup over to Sargie’s former house one last time. There’s a small pile to drop off at Goodwill, one for the dump, and a couple of things that will end up here at Pentoga. That will be the last trip to Vulcan… at least for the purpose of moving. It’s one I’m looking forward to. Amen.

I’ll make another run to Yooper Mark’s plant this week to get a load of log-ends. Though they quickly burn, they are perfect for our smaller wood stove and until it really gets cold when we’ll use hard wood for fuel, they fill the bill.

I’ve got papers to read and three separate classes I’ll be teaching next semester to make ready for.  A man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Frost and ice along the lake shore are becoming common as fall marches towards winter