It's time for the Iron County Fair!

August 17, 2013 – Saturday

49 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

One of the most difficult things about writing a daily log is deciding how to begin. Usually, I start with a blurb about the weather. I’m a weatheraholic and a news addict.

Fog settling into a field at sunset on Friday

I’d comment on current events except much of it has to do with politics and the blog would turn into a political editorial. I want Pentoga Tales to be a positive thing and I don’t see anything political that’s been uplifting or positive. Since I feel both political parties are entirely too liberal, illegally spend money we don’t have, promote big government for self-serving politicians, and continually disregard our Constitution and the principals on which this country was founded, I’m considered somewhere out there on the far right… in the company of Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan. So, I don’t comment on the news.

I wrote a gardening column and later, a family column for over twenty-five years.  It was a weekly struggle deciding how to begin each. In talking with a big-city newspaper editor about it, he said that one should simply put words down on paper… anything… let the fingers do the writing. Sooner or later, an idea would begin to formulate, the brain would take over, and the content develop.

It’s 4:30 AM and my brain must still be asleep. So far, it’s been all fingers.

Sargie and I rode together to Iron Mountain on Friday morning where I got my fingerprints electronically registered. Gone are the days of blue ink and alcohol wipes.

We had a couple of hours to spare before Sargie had to be at work so we enjoyed a big breakfast at one of the local cafes. I had the Lumberjack Special; three eggs, four sausage patties, two pieces of French toast, half a plate of hash browns, and all the coffee I could slurp. Dainty Sargie had a solitary waffle.

We later made stops at the recycling center and Home Depot.

I was home before noon and worked in the garden for well over an hour thinning fall beets and turnips. I think I detect a hint of a blush on one or two tomatoes, but I’m not holding my breath.

Brutus and I strolled 5.36 miles Friday afternoon. He’s coming around after a summer of inactivity. Yesterday, he actually pushed me over onto the shoulder (gently) when we met an oncoming car. Most of the time, I forget he’s trotting alongside me.

I cleaned the downstairs of the house yesterday afternoon. With nice weather, I’ve been tracking in and out continually and the floors needed a through sweeping. It felt good to get that chore completed.

A shower taken and feeling like an adventure, I hopped aboard the new four-wheeler and headed towards Iron River. The Iron County Fair began a couple of days ago and runs through Sunday.

Driving directly into a setting sun made for hard going the first six or eight miles. My eyes are extremely light sensitive, the result of too many years of being exposed to the harsh arctic sun. I found myself having to stop, shield my eyes, look down the trail, creep ahead until I was completely blinded again, then repeat the entire process. My frontal vision is similar to welder's burn. Driving into the sun made me feel as though someone had simply welded my eyelids shut and made for a slow journey. The sun finally lay at my left when the trail turned north and I made it into town in good shape.

I parked at Jerad’s house, a half a mile from the fair grounds, and walked the rest of the way. Mark and Sheri were in the 4H building and Sheri showed me the projects her girls have toiled over this past year. It was quite an impressive array and I saw many blue ribbons.

 We looked at the canned goods, the vegetables, jams, and jellies. I think I could have competed in that category and feel certain my pickles would have placed. My blueberry jam might have shown quite high as well as my maple syrup.

I moved onto the vegetables and again, felt as though I could have competed. Evidently, I’m not the only person who is having a difficult time gardening this year. It’s certain my largest pumpkin would have earned a blue ribbon and I would have been competitive with several other vegetables. Oh well, there’s always next year.

Yooper Brother Mark just got off the merry-go-round. Okay, that's a lie. 

I bid Mark and Sheri goodbye after forty minutes. I wanted to thread my way through town on the four-wheeler trail before dark. If it’s not too much sun, it’s the glare of oncoming car lights.

The trip home was very enjoyable until I drove into fog. From then on, it was a slow and arduous proposition. I kept imagining deer running out in front causing me to suddenly apply the brakes. In the end, I emerged ten miles down the trail, just one mile from the house, and came on home.

Sargie had to work late last night so we arrived home at almost the same time. She works early today and then will be off Sunday.

Yooper Brother Mark and I were talking about a possible paddle down the Mighty Brule later today. With a high of 80 degrees, clear skies, and little wind, it appears as though it could be the perfect day.

Brutus and I will take our five-mile stroll this morning and after, I’ll work in the garden for a while. It’s hard telling what other chores might pop up because as we all know, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…