Sunday's stroll through the garden proved bountiful

August 19, 2013 – Monday

54 degrees/starry/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

I wish, just once, I could sleep through the night, slumber until a relatively late 6 am, and rise full of vim and vinegar. I went to bed with a headache last night and awakened around midnight feeling my heart beat in my right eye. To make matters worse, the knee was also hurting. Between the two, I was unable to fall back to sleep and gave up shortly after 3 am to come downstairs. A migraine tablet and a prescription ibuprofen have made both aches subside into dull memories.

I’m not sure what’s up with the headaches, but I rather imagine it’s the pillow I use. I’ve tried big pillows, small ones, soft, and hard; none seem to be the right fit. I’m about ready to try one of those “As seen on TV” pillows with memory foam. Maybe that will cure my malady.

And the knee; the darned knee. It was aching after Saturday morning’s walk, but then I twisted it while wrestling the kayak out of the river later in the day. It’s once again swollen and reminding me it needs to heal before I get too adventuresome. As far as hiking and enjoying any strenuous outdoor activities, I’m about ready to write this summer off. Maybe the knee will be ready to rejoin the rest of my body next spring.

I finally picked enough green beans Sunday morning to can. Last year by this time, I’d picked all we wanted and had given away bushels to friends and neighbors. I’d like to put up more than I picked yesterday, but unless the pole beans begin to bear, we may have enough to occasionally eat, but not enough to can for the winter months.

The giant moon flowers are beginning to bloom. The seed was given to us by one of Sargie's coworkers at the Vision Center and the blooms are four to six inches in diameter.

For some strange reason, the eggplant, normally a warm-summer vegetable, has done fairly well this season, but other than the cherry variety, I’ve yet to pick a red tomato. Who knows?

Sargie did laundry all morning and at one point, had every inch of clothesline filled with drying clothes. 

We ventured to Iron Mountain on Sunday afternoon to run some errands and have supper with Mr. Milligan. Our first stop was at Home Depot where we purchased enough bricks to make a new hearth.

While in the neighborhood, we went into Walmart to purchase some mousetraps, paid for with my debit card. The little buggers are already beginning to invade the basement, something that happens each fall. Since they’re a month to six weeks early, I wonder if we’re going to have an early winter?

I’d sure love to know where they enter. I’ve crawled all around the foundation looking for holes, nooks, and crannies, but with a 93 year-old house, who knows.  

Sargie went on to the VA late Sunday afternoon and I returned to Home Depot to purchase lumber with which to build Brutus’s doghouse. When I went to pay, my debit card wasn’t in my wallet. I returned to the VA and asked Sargie if she had it. She didn’t. I searched the Blazer high and low and finally, returned to Walmart.

When asking at the service desk, I learned an honest person had found my debit card in the parking lot and turned it in.

In retrospect, I’m glad the situation happened. It was a lesson to remind me there are still many good people left in the world… at least in the U.P. We read of drug dealers, thieves, and those who take advantage of every free program they can lay their hands on, yet I have to believe for every thief and freeloader, there are dozens of honest, good, well-meaning people who treat others as they like to be treated. I intend to write a letter to the editor of the Iron Mountain paper later today to thank whoever turned in my debit card. I’m truly grateful.

Sargie works early today which means she should be home early this evening. I’m going to begin cleaning and snapping the beans fairly shortly. The forecast is for hot temperatures in the low 80’s. I want to get everything finished before the house gets too warm. There are bricks and lumber to unload from the Blazer and carrots to pull and be made ready to can in the next day or two.

You guessed it.  A man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

A railroad tunnel in Iron Mountain. It's a tradition... one HAS to honk midway through.