May 18, 2013 – Saturday morning

49 degrees/cloudy/rainy/calm

Pentoga Road

I thought it rained during most of the nighttime hours, but there’s only .05 of an inch in the gauge. Hmm, maybe I’ll check it for cracks and leaks. The plastic is getting old and brittle, but I like it because the gauge is supersized and easy to read.

I think I might have overdone it a bit on Friday. My knee hurt so badly last night that I was tempted to bite down on my leather belt and beg Sargie to cut off my leg with a rusty kitchen knife ala the Civil War scene in Dances With Wolves. I think I pushed too many wheelbarrow’s full of dirt. It appears with the weather, the knee might get a respite today.

I began Friday by filling the ten fifteen-gallon pots with compost/topsoil and eventually planting blueberry bushes. Each fifteen-gallon container translated into a full wheelbarrow that had to be pushed somewhat uphill over the lawn and into the orchard. Once there, the deep layer of wood chips made for even harder transport. The pots were eventually filled, the berry bushes planted, and a special ph fertilizer applied along with aluminum sulfate.

While I was in the blueberry mood, I fertilized the other dozen plants that are growing in the ground. The ten in the pots will be pushed over onto their sides late next fall in an attempt to keep all growth below the snow cover during the winter months. Hopefully, that will protect this year’s new growth, where the next summer’s blueberries will grow.

It’s an experiment, this potted blueberry fiasco. Should it work, I’ll be ordering a dozen southern blueberries next spring. They are much larger than the northern variety and grow up to eight feet tall bearing pounds of fruit on each bush. Oh yeah, maple syrup and blueberries, my two hoped-for cash crops in the years to come.

Planting the potatoes came next. I tilled the bed as deeply as possible, made a trench, then added several loads of compost before placing the pieces, each with an eye or two, into the ground. After mounding the dirt over the trench, I top-dressed with potash. The spuds should be ready to sprout and go forth to be fruitful… or would that be potatoful?

The planters on the back deck were the next project. I thought it would be a simple forty-five minute job to empty each and fill them with dirt. It didn’t take long to discover the old potting soil was completely root bound and was like digging out concrete. While prodding, digging, and poking, I managed to puncture the black plastic liner that was rotten, and then after getting one container emptied, I found a treated timber that was completely rotten. When I attempted to pry against it, the thing fell in two.

So what began as a simple, under-an-hour job, became one that lasted over three. As of this morning, the liners and planters are repaired, filled with new compost and topsoil, and ready for Sargie to perform her floral magic.

I noticed the plastic bed of the large wheelbarrow cracked this past winter on a day that was registering -30. I pitched a piece of maple from ten feet away and when it landed in the wheelbarrow, the frozen and brittle plastic cracked like a piece of glass.

It’s babied and used daily, but yesterday it grew worse and at one point, I was fearful that it might break apart completely.

I used the high-pressure washer and cleaned the surface completely, then spread a large piece of fiberglass cloth over the cracks, and coated it with automotive epoxy. I’ll trim it this morning and hopefully, the fiberglass will add another year or two of life to my favorite piece of manual machinery.

Brutus continues his award-winning puppy ways. He was by my side all day yesterday and more than once, when I sat directly on the ground to plant, he managed to lay his bushel basket-sized head in my lap. I took a break around noon and walked into the woods. When I finally gave him the command to take me home, he ambled and wound through the trees and eventually brought me back to the house. He’s sure a good dog. Right now, he’s lying on his bed beside my chair, dreaming, yipping, jowls flapping, legs pumping in an unseen race, and passing gas. Yup, all is normal in Brutus’s world.

I was all done in last night and still in the shower when Sargie arrived home from work, then visiting her dad at the VA Hospital. It was a happy girl who entered through the door knowing she didn’t have to work today. Brutus gave warning someone had pulled into the drive and was putting on his best watchdog imitation until he discovered it was Sargie. After that, it was a love fest all the way.

I did my best to stay awake last night, but in the end, began falling asleep in my chair shortly after 9. I’d gotten up for the day at 4 AM and my energy gauge was on zero. Sargie told me this morning that Brutus accompanied me upstairs and fell asleep on the floor. When she later came to bed, he woke up startled and barked a warning, but I didn’t even hear that. I was dead to the world.

Today… it’s overcast and somewhat rainy. I think I like that. Sargie’s home and no doubt we’ll do something together… probably along the vein of me carrying all the tools from the upstairs bathroom  to the shop and Sargie finishing touching up places that didn’t cover very well or that I missed earlier. I need to make a base plate for the light over the vanity, so that might happen. Also, I HAVE to put away the tools on the workbench in the shop. I keep meaning to do that, but it seems I never have the time. Today’s the day. I’ll make the time… I hope.

 

Since this is her last day off for the immediate future, we’ll probably take a slow afternoon drive into town. With our lives being so busy and her working such long hours, it creates the perfect opportunity to catch up and talk while we sightsee.

I guess I ought to get this uploaded, look at a few pictures so I can see how yesterday went, and begin today. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…