The snow coming down and covering Pentoga Road on Friday

February 23, 2013 – Saturday morning

10 degrees/ptly cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

I thought sure the wood gnome would deliver his wares during the night and I’d find the wood box full of dry tinder this morning. Darn little insensitive bugger forgot to stop here.

It’s not that I’m lazy, but it was snowing so hard last night. I’d taken a shower and changed into sweat pants and t-shirt; my usual winter evening attire. It was cold and dark and snowing and I was feeling… delicate and vulnerable. Surely those few pieces of wood inside would last through the night and into this morning… wouldn’t they?

Sargie was home, it was cozy. I made two huge bowls of hot, buttered, popcorn, and we turned on our current favorite Netflix rerun series, Mad Men, and enjoyed chomping and watching.

Okay, I was feeling lazy and it had nothing to do with vulnerable or delicate. I’m down to three pieces of wood, just about enough to last until I’m finished writing. No wood gnome equals Tommy P having to load the wheelbarrow and carry a load inside. Oh, if only you had my life.

And Sargie did come barreling in last evening with the Blazer in four-wheel-drive. I’m not sure how much snow fell yesterday, but I’m relatively certain it was more than the one inch forecast. When I walked out to the mailbox late in the afternoon, it was close to coming over the top of my boots.

Friday was an inside/outside day, regardless of the weather. Sargie dropped me off on her way to work and I enjoyed trekking the five and a half miles back home in the snow. Passers-by now seem to know me and have quit stopping to offer help. Most just toot their horns and wave. The neighborhood is small. I would bet most know who I am and continue to wonder why anyone in his right mind would be walking in such weather. When meeting someone new, I usually hear, “Oh, you’re that guy from Alaska.” I guess that explains it all.

Arriving back home, I ate a quick breakfast of raisin bran covered in strawberries, graded an assignment or five, then strapped on the snowshoes, grabbed the snow shovel, and set off for the back of the property to free my snowmobile from several feet of drifted snow.

It was nice shuffling back through the spruce and maple woods. I guess it’s because I’m by myself so much of the time, but I find as I get older, many of the activities I do remind me of the past. Yesterday’s snowshoe excursion brought to mind another that I made with my oldest son, Josh, many years ago.

We decided to “shoe” our way through the woods from the old camp deep in the Allagash Wilderness in northern Maine, to a distant wood’s road. It was quite a journey wading through four and five feet of snow. Though I pretended to be the strongest and sometimes went ahead breaking trail, I was secretly relieved when Josh took over so I might follow in his tracks.

We talked a lot during that trek; I’m not sure what about and it’s not really important now. The important thing is that we made a wonderful memory that day. It was one of those father/son things that dads never forget.

I had a bit of difficulty finding the snowmobile on Friday morning. My vision isn’t always the best, especially in a heavy snow, and I found myself shuffling around searching for the thing. Wiping the sweat from my eyes and breathing quite hard, I began to wonder who in the world would trek clear into the thick woods to steal an ancient Arctic Cat snowmobile, one that I paid less than $200 for several years ago?

I continued with due diligence my shuffle dance on snowshoes and finally stumbled onto my trusty machine. With skis pointing skyward, it served as a reminder what happens when a foolish man crashes headlong into a briar patch filled with several feet of snow.

I shoveled, moaned, lifted, and cursed that big ol’ machine out of the snowdrift. It took almost an hour, but I wasn’t in any hurry. Year’s ago, the chore wouldn’t have taken longer than ten minutes, possibly five, but with our upcoming trip to Andy and Mollie’s, I didn’t want to take a chance on pulling a muscle in my back.

While shuffling through the woods in search of the snow machine, I came across a nice stand of sugar maples that I didn’t even know was there! Call me crazy, call me wild, call me insane, but I’m heading back to that area today to further explore and make new paths. 

Freed and ready to make more trails

The rest of the day was spent fiddling around, mostly inside. There was laundry to be done, trash to be burned, and other honey-do jobs calling my name.

Sargie left work a few minutes early yesterday afternoon and was home before it got too dark. I closed the garage door after she pulled in and you know the rest of the story.

I’m going to spend this morning clearing the drive and patio of snow after I arrive back home from my walk. It’s supposed to be close to the freezing mark, so I think it’ll be an excellent day to make new trails through the maple woods.

I want to begin emptying out the new wood/sugar shed in preparation for setting up the maple operation. Hopefully, it will be ready to boil before we leave for Andy and Mollie’s on Thursday. Sugar season should be upon us shortly thereafter.

And then there are those pesky assignments from my students that keep arriving in my email on a daily basis.

Despite being delicate and sensitive, I guess I’m going to have to get this uploaded then carry in some firewood.  After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…