Saturday, July 6, 2013

July 6, 2013 – Saturday

64 degrees/sunny/breezy

Pentoga Road

Summer seems to have settled in with a vengeance. With a high of 85 predicted, it’s going to be a warm one today.

There’s not a lot to write about. Due to the knee, after a painful Fourth of July where I got to watch everyone else swim and play in the pool, I decided to dedicate a full three or four days to doing nothing. It seems to be paying off. I was completely pain-free yesterday, slept like a rock last night, and seem to have a bit more mobility this morning.

Because I was physically inactive doesn’t mean I died. I graded papers early in the morning and did non-contact outside activities like watering the garden and picking a bowl of strawberries.

I’m encouraged with the progress of the garden. Everything’s beginning to grow and it appears this year won’t be a complete failure. I looked at last year’s log on alaskaprofessor.blogspot.com and discovered the garden is about three weeks to a month behind last year’s.

The strawberries are beginning to slow down. Even with the four inches of rain we received two weeks ago, the remaining berries are becoming small and seedy. There’s one, maybe two more pickings and we can kiss them goodbye for another year. The ever bearing strawberries, those I planted early this spring, are beginning to produce, but they aren’t doing very well and remain extremely small. I’m finding they aren’t nearly as robust as their June berry cousins.

I was going to spend the day in the barn carving, but honestly, it was too hot. I shuffled a few things around, put a screwdriver and hammer away, and blew sawdust off the band saw. I can’t concentrate on anything when there’s sweat dripping in my eyes.

It took the entire afternoon to empty almost 6,000 pictures from the hard drive on this computer. That was one year’s worth of picture taking. Why so many?

I often don’t see so good, so I snap several pictures of the same object to download on the computer. Later, I can magnify each and see the details, enjoy what I might have missed earlier. The other day, I discovered there was an infestation of potato beetles on the eggplants, garden huckleberries, and potatoes. I found insect eggs on the cherry tree in a picture. Pictures often serve as an aid as well as providing memories and entertainment. The majority are simply deleted after being viewed.

The computer is back to being lightening fast. If fact, it’s so speedy that if I didn’t sit in my recliner to work, I might get blown right out of the chair. That’s a lie.

Yooper Brother Mark stopped out during the afternoon to visit. He leaves today for a week at scout camp. The man has been a Boy Scout leader for many years and is known throughout the Upper Peninsula for his work with the youngsters in this area of the state. We talked for well over an hour and as always, it was great to see my good friend.

The internet company called and said they are bringing out another type of antenna Monday morning. They’ve previously tried two others. I doubt this one will result in anything different. They now think it’s “noise” that is creating the dropout periods in my service. After a year and a half of problems, I’ll try anything, but honestly, I’m not overly optimistic. You can’t win the Kentucky Derby with a mule.

Brutus’s paw seems to be doing okay, but we had one potential medical crisis the night before last.

The super glue I’d used to close the cut on Wednesday had worn out, so Thursday evening, Sargie fed him treats and petted his belly while he lay on his back and I attempted to glue the wound shut again.

All went well. The bulldog happily munched his yum yums and I pronounced another successful living room floor surgical procedure had been accomplished. We exalted in the glory of it all until the dog attempted to get up and we both discovered I’d glued my index finger to the pad of his foot. I’d been pressing the two sides of the wound together and some glue had leaked. 

The treats were gone and the dog was growing restless. There’s something fairly nerve wracking about being glued to large bulldog who was rapidly growing impatient. We were firmly attached.

Sargie left to find a one-sided razor blade. After a few minutes, I yelled and told her that anything with an edge might suffice. At that point, a serrated butter knife would have looked good. Brutus kept trying to get up and it soon became a one armed/three legged wrestling match on the living room floor.

Sargie returned a few minutes later with a window scraper; the one containing a razor blade that we use to scrape paint off panes of glass. Thankfully, it was sharp enough that I could cut between my finger and Brutus’s paw and we were soon freed of each other.

I have to admit, that’s one of the more stupid things I’ve done in my life. Year’s ago, in Maine, while taking a shower, I inadvertently used the dog’s shampoo to wash my hair. We’d given our golden retriever a bath during the winter months and had no choice but to use the bathtub. I was blind without my glasses and the bottle felt like a shampoo bottle. The rest is history.

There are no pictures today. The few I’d taken yesterday morning were inadvertently moved to the external hard drive and it’s upstairs. I could say that since I’m resting the knee, I shouldn't climb the steps, but the real truth is that I'm too lazy to go get it. Just close your eyes and conjure up photos of a garden, some strawberries, a shop that is looking more complete than it did the day before yesterday, and Brutus’s paw.

Sargie works late today. I’m going to mow the back trails and knock down some of the thistles that are getting ready to bloom. For the first time in years, I feel as though I am getting a handle on the thistle problem… simply by mowing before they can flower and spread their seeds in the wind. There’s a small area in the garden that I’d like to till, but that would require using the knee and we all know, that’s a no-no.

Meanwhile, I need to wake Sargie, get another cup of coffee, listen to the news, and think deep thoughts. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…