September 30, 2013 – Monday

40 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

I just finished checking my email. There must be sixteen million, four hundred thousand, sixty-five, nine, two, fourteen, (plus tax) assignments that came in this weekend and all are waiting to be read and graded. I made the mistake, or enjoyed the luxury, of not checking to see what amount of student work arrived over the weekend. The kids are home and I wanted to enjoy them, not read assignments. I’ll pay for it today.

Sunday was a busy one. I started the day by making super duper pancakes and broke my own record by flipping the largest cake I’ve ever attempted to turn. Grandma Pennington used to make super duper pancakes and it’s been one of my goals in life to duplicate her culinary accomplishments. Of course, her pancakes were made from scratch and cooked in an old cast iron skillet over a wood stove. 

Although Dad didn’t really attempt super dupers, he was a champion at flipping large cakes without having them break apart. I hope one of my sons becomes a true pancakeaneer and carries on the tradition of not only making, but successfully flipping, true giant flapjacks. It’s one of the many things we do.

There’s an area on the north side of the drive that I’ve been wanting to clear of rocks and boulders so eventually, a perennial flower bed can be established there. With Andy and/or Mollie operating the tractor and front-end loader, we pried, lifted, or carried, several large loads of rocks from the area on Sunday morning. A few could have been classified as boulders and required a large pry bar to coax them from the ground. Still, within three hours, the area was fairly rock-free. I’ll have good dirt hauled in next spring then terrace and plant the future flowerbed.

It's Mollie's turn. Andy giving instruction. 

We took a break of a few hours and watched the Lions beat up on the Bears. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever cheered for the Detroit Lions, but it appears that Chicago is our biggest threat this season. We laughed and cheered as the Lions sent them home crying like little schoolgirls with skinned knees. Andy and I will coach the Packers next Sunday as they play Detroit at Lambeau Field. 

Growing up in the Pittsburg area, Mollie is a Steelers fan. We flipped back and forth between the two games and witnessed Minnesota finally win a game as they barely beat Mollie’s favorite team. Of course, the Packers play Pittsburg December 22^nd, a game that Mollie, Andy, and I, will attend in Green Bay. I hope the kids are still happily married by game’s end. Someone has to lose and it better be Pittsburg.

Sargie was home by mid afternoon. We unloaded the car and since she’d not yet seen the kids, there was no small amount of talking, laughing, hugging, and more talking.

Andy and I were buzzed by Pentoga Road's own four-wheeler gang comprised of a couple of hot biker chicks.

I’ve accumulated quite a pile of tree limbs and scrap lumber from this past summer that needed burning. With a splash of coal oil and the spark of a match, giant flames were soon reaching skyward.

Andy hopped on the tractor and began pushing logs closer to the inferno or feeding fresh wood into it.

After the pile had burned to embers, we speared weenies and brats, and roasted those. Sargie had made a shrimp/pasta salad so we ate hearty last night.

I’m going to read and grade papers, hopefully getting many finished before the kids are up for the day. Sargie works early so possibly, she’ll be home fairly early this evening. There are a couple of dead maples that have fallen over and I know Andy’s getting itchy to work up some firewood. I’m about to make his wish come true. Mollie said last night that if I would point her in the direction of an apple tree, she’d pick enough to make a fresh apple pie. That girl knows how to make ol Dad a happy man.

Brutus thought we were hauling logs for his entertainment

But first, I need to pour another cup of coffee, throw a log on the fire, and get this uploaded. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

Andy and Mollie.
Mollie must be from the deep south. Way up "North," she was wearing a heavy coat, heavy boots, and... shorts. Taken on the Brule River bridge.

September 29, 2013 – Sunday

41 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

I don’t know what happened with the wood stove this morning. I started the fire in the usual manner, barely cracked the door for ventilation, and walked into the other part of the house to make coffee and do my usual early morning chores. When I returned ten minutes later, the room was filled with smoke. Had I not recently cleaned the flue, I would have thought it was clogged. I opened the door to the outside and some windows, once again rekindled the fire, and all is well. I think it has more to do with the atmospheric conditions on the outside rather than my fire making abilities on the inside. Occasionally it happens. Who knows why.

Andy and Mollie pulled in shortly after noon on Saturday after driving a twenty-four hour marathon from southern Louisiana. Oh to be young again. Once both stretched and removed the kinks from their tired joints, each seemed no worse for the wear.

I spent the morning hours washing windows… or trying. The inside/outside insecticide spray used on Friday had splashed onto the glass leaving run marks. Sargie had washed them all last spring and it was time for a pre-winter wipe down. The windows look good to me, but somehow, I think Sargie might find a spot or two I missed.

We spent the afternoon walking around the property, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. Mollie brought several jars of her pickled peppers that she’d canned earlier this summer. I pried one open and was halfway through the jar when I thought I’d better leave some for Sargie. Mollie did a wonderful job of first growing the peppers and later, pickling.

We took a four-wheeler ride to the river. It was a perfect day to simply be outside. Much of the afternoon was also spent sitting on the back deck.

I talked with Sargie during the day. Her walkathon went well and the weather was perfect. She met with the boys later, went to mass with her sisters, out to eat supper after, and the last I spoke with her, they were back at the hotel. The Milligan sisters will face their vehicle south this morning and I look for Sargie to be back home early this afternoon. She’s anxious to see Andy and Mollie.

I fixed frozen pizzas last night for supper, adding fistfuls of mushrooms, black olives, shrimp, and grated cheese. No one went hungry on Pentoga Road.

Andy crashed on the couch around 7 PM. With a full belly and shower, he lay down and was out shortly after. Mollie made it a bit longer, but by 8, both were heading up the stairs.

Brutus and I followed soon after, choosing to watch tv upstairs and read… well, I read. Lying on the floor beside the bed, Brutus burped and tooted himself to sleep.

I’m not sure what today will bring. I’m sure we’ll watch part of the Bears/Lions game, scouting for next week’s contest when the Lions visit the Packers. No doubt, the Pack will need Andy’s and my coaching, along with that from the other 80,000 spectators at Lambeau Field.

Meanwhile, I’m going to pour another cup of coffee and grade a few papers before all the action starts. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

Grilled venison cheeseburgers were enjoyed for Friday night's supper. 

September 28, 2013 – Saturday morning

57 degrees/sunny/calm

Pentoga Road

I just received a text from Andy saying they’d driven all night after leaving Louisiana around noon on Friday, had crossed over the Illinois border into Wisconsin, and planned on arriving around lunchtime today. I thought maybe the kids would stop and get a room last night, but in true team fashion, one drove while the other slept.  Several years ago, Mollie and Andy drove thirty-six hours, nonstop, from northern Maine to southern Louisiana in such a manner.

Sargie has the house looking spotless, but I need to sweep all the floors and swipe the windows. The people who spray our house for insects are later than usual this year and the houseflies have been thick. I took it upon myself yesterday to spray around all the windows, inside and out. It took care of the flies, but made a mess on some of the panes of glass. Thankfully, the incessant buzzing has quit, at least for now.

I sprayed around the second floor windows too

I finished the antenna on Brutus's house. He can now receive several over-the-air channels, his favorite soap operas, but more importantly, all the Packers’ games. Next will come the standpipes on the roof, the electric meter, the flower box, then the windows and doors. It’s a process. One neighbor keeps telling me I ought to get a job. Another says I have entirely too much time on my hands. Both are retired, but obviously have yet to learn that a man’s work is never done.

Time was taken last night to mow the yard and all the trails. The place looks good and is still as plush and green as it was last spring with the exception of the trees that are beginning to display their fall time brilliant reds and oranges.

With the fallen leaves, it was the easiest mowing I've had all summer. I could see exactly where I'd already been.

One of the dining room chairs had a brace that broke sometime ago. The set belonged to my Grandma Reinhardt, Mom’s mom, and I inherited it many years ago. We used the chairs and table (with two full leaves) while the boys were home as we do now when we have company. The problem is, the glue dries out due to the dry winter air, causing me to glue and sometimes completely rebuild a chair every now and then. Yesterday’s fix required a whole new piece just under the seat, glue, clamps, and finally, two screws. It should last for the rest of my lifetime. After that, it will be someone else’s responsibility to keep it intact.

Sargie’s still in Marquette. She called a couple of times yesterday saying the sisters were having a lot of fun on their girls’ weekend. I believe Sargie found some treasures at the mall and one of the highpoints was visiting the bank where her youngest son, Macrea, is the manager. I was told his mom and all his aunts gave him big hugs and kisses making him turn red in front of his employees.

Brutus continues to get better and it’s difficult to follow the veterinarian’s advice to keep him quiet. The dog has two speeds; dead asleep or full out. He does both equally well. Right now, he’s on guard duty, sleeping on the blanket covering my feet.

Brutus definitely misses Sargie. He was all over the house during the night looking for her. I slept on her side of the bed (I miss her too) and there were several times he plopped his fat head where she’d normally be lying. He’s generally by my side during the day and evening hours. At night, he sleeps on the floor by her side of the bed.

Yesterday, Brutus was continually stuck to me. I couldn’t turn around without him being there and finally, I got his ball (which is HIS toy) and let him chew on it so I could mow the grass without him attempting to trot alongside the tractor.

I need to get this uploaded and begin to clean. A man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Taken at this moment while I write. My feet are under that blanket he's lying on. 

The leaves are beginning to change along the ATV trail

September 27, 2013 – Friday

51 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

Thursday was one of those types of days that a person wishes might last forever. The temperature approached seventy degrees, yet there was no humidity but enough breeze to keep any flies or gnats at bay. Perfect.

After my usual grading of papers in the morning, I took advantage of the day by finishing the construction of the chimney on Brutus’s house. Honestly, for something that should have been simple, I ran into all kinds of problems with knots in the wood, angles, and deciding how large/tall/wide to make the thing. Each difficulty was magnified every time I had to walk down the drive to the shop to make a simple cut or adjustment. Still, within two hours, the basic chimney was finished.

I decided to take the four-wheeler into town to deliver a couple of items to Yooper Brother Mark. I found him in the middle of several tasks at the plant where we talked a bit, but one would have thought the boy was working. I left him to his managerial activities after a few minutes and continued onto the hardware store where I purchased a small amount of paint to finish Brutus’s chimney.

The trip to town was like a ride through a wildlife park. I spotted a bear under a wild apple tree just a quarter of a mile down Pentoga Road. Several flocks of wild turkeys were seen, a partridge was almost hit, and multiple deer were seen grazing.

I returned later to paint the chimney and lay out the cement block pattern to imitate the flue on our house.

The antenna was started and hopefully, will be finished today. It involves a lot of drilling, some soldering, and if I can get the heat just right, a bit of welding.

I'm trying to make this antenna more powerful than mine so Brutus can receive all the Packers games.

I talked with a gentleman asking if I would consider building a doghouse to match his family home. After some discussion, I declined his invitation. The poor guy was under the impression I’m a craftsman of some type. I assured him I’m strictly a piddler, one who questionably qualifies as a Jack-of-all-trades and definitely is a master of absolutely nothing.

Sargie gave me a great surprise and pulled in the drive early last night. For the first time in a long time, we enjoyed the late afternoon outside and ate supper at a normal hour. She spent the rest of the evening cleaning and preparing for her weekend ahead.

In looking for a particular picture from the past last night, I stumbled across many from Alaska, some from Maine, and of course, those that have been taken since the house on Pentoga Road entered my life. Poor Sargie was trying to clean and I kept saying, “Come here and look at this one!” It’s a wonder the girl got anything done. Looking at the pictures was a mostly good trip down memory lane.

Here I'm lecturing, via satellite, while teaching from my porch north of the Arctic Circle.

Sargie will be joining her sisters beginning today and through the weekend along the shores of Lake Superior in Marquette where a walk-a-thon/fundraiser for Alzheimer’s research will be occurring. It’s been well over a year since we’ve spent a night, let alone two, apart. I’m glad she’ll get to enjoy some quality family/girl time and no doubt, there’ll be some power shopping going on. Cale and Macrea also live in Marquette, so I’m betting Mom will treat two of her sons to lunch or supper… or maybe the sons will treat Mom.

Brutus and I are not without our chores. I want to finish his antenna today and get it mounted. After, I think I’ll mow the grass and trails. It really doesn’t need it, yet there are just enough high places where the grass has grown that it’s beginning to look a bit shabby.

Andy and Mollie are scheduled to leave today to begin their drive from Louisiana. We’re really excited about their visit and the best part is they’ll be back in December for Christmas. Life continues to get better.

So that’s my life on this Friday morning. It’s time to greet the day. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

Brutus's antenna wasn't the only one worked on Thursday. I ran a speaker wire out the shop and fastened it onto a popple pole, then hung it from another. I'm now able to pull in stations from as far away as Iron Mountain and Marquette. The secret? I think one has to have an old ice fishing shack where to prop it up to make the whole thing work.

Wednesday's attempt at making a garden huckleberry pie

September 26, 2013 – Thursday

42 degrees/very foggy/calm

Pentoga Road

Today would have been Dad’s 86^th birthday. Strange, I had difficulty remembering it when he was alive, but just now, as I was posting the date above, it just popped into my head. I think I remembered it last year as well.

Why is it that as I get older and stand on the threshold of my twilight years, Dad and I become closer? He’s been gone for well over a decade, but as time comes and goes, we talk more and more. Our relationship has crossed from that of a father and son into being good friends. I like that. I like that very much.

Happy birthday, Dad. Keep the ukulele strings tuned, the steel guitar singing, and leave some fish for me to catch. I love you, Dad.

Wednesday was the day of the garden huckleberry. I’d never grown them before and had read where they are a good substitute for blueberries in pies and jams. I grew several bushes as an experiment.

Like the rest of the garden, they were slow in the beginning, but once warmer weather arrived, all thrived and in the end, became loaded with beautiful black berries.

Supposedly, they are much sweeter if one waits to harvest until after a hard frost. We’ve not only had frosts, we’ve had freezes. It was time to pick.

Andy and Mollie are to arrive on Sunday and I thought it would be fun to have a hot pie waiting for them. I wanted to bake a test pie, then if it was successful, make a fresh one Sunday morning.

I was almost gleeful as I dumped the berries into the sink, washed and stemmed all, then dumped them into a pot to simmer. They smelled good.

I attempted to make a piecrust from scratch, but we won’t talk about that. In the end, I used a commercial crust and was happy at the results.

The pie was finished. I gently carved my initials into the top crust and set it aside to be eaten for Wednesday night’s dessert.

It was time to take a trike ride and I was barely a mile down the road when one chain jumped the sprocket and became tightly tangled with the second. No amount of prying and pulling would see it free. I trudged back home pulling the machine by its back wheel. Thankfully, all the weight is in the front end.

I’ve made up my mind that I’ll be taking the trike back. I’m not going to purchase it and I’m scared to death that something will break. I’m relatively certain a trike will be purchased next spring, but this isn’t the one for me. It’s too expensive, too old, too heavy, and obviously, needs a good tune up.

Work began on the chimney for Brutus’s house. I hoped that possibly, ONE thing might be built for the structure that wouldn’t take days and days to complete. The chimney isn’t one of them. There’s the garage roof angle, then a completely different angle of the house roof. Still, it’s more than half finished and it should be completed today. Next will be the tv antenna. I’ve got the heavy wire from which to fashion it and I’m sure Brutus is anxious so he can watch more than one channel.

Brutus is still limping, but with the medication, his puppy-like personality has returned. Getting him to swallow his pills is a chore. I simply put one on the end of my middle finger and ram it down his throat up to my elbow so he can’t gag it back out. So far/so good.

Chewing that rawhide bone can be tiresome. 

Sargie works today then will be joining her sisters for a walk-a-thon in Marquette this weekend to benefit Alzheimer’s. Brutus and I will be doing guy things around here like cleaning the house in preparation for Andy and Mollie’s arrival on Sunday. I might even break out a cigar somewhere along the way.

Oh, back to the garden huckleberry pie. It was horrible. Tasting like overly-ripe garden vegetables that someone had covered with entirely too much pepper, we’ve decided that possibly, the bears will enjoy what remains in the dish. Scratch garden huckleberries off my list of things to grow for next season.

How anything can look so good and taste so terrible is beyond me

Time to move along here and greet the day. There are papers to read this morning and after, I’m going hop on the four wheeler and go into town to purchase some paint for the chimney and visit Yooper Brother Mark for a bit. We’ve not made connections for over a week.

But first, it’s time to get another cup of coffee and listen to the news. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Ever on guard, Brutus is in his ceiling attack position... should any one attempt to invade from above.

You want to see Yooper wildlife at its best? Go to the Iron Mountain cemetery.

September 25, 2013 – Wednesday

41 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

I’m certain there are a lot of stars out this morning if only we could see them. For the second day in a row, fog is blanketing our little valley. The air is more reminiscent of pea soup rather than something we’d breath. If it’s anything like yesterday, the fog will dissipate as soon as the sun appears over the horizon.

Tuesday was the day of the veterinarian. Brutus has been lame in his back right leg now for sometime. It’s always stiff when he first rises in the morning, but after walking on it for a few minutes, he uses it normally, and after a bit, he’s running and jumping in his usual manner.

The past few days have seen him lying around more than usual, putting minimal weight on that leg. After finding a couple of strange looking ticks on him, we wondered if he might have Lyme’s disease. It was time to take him to the vet.

I did manage to finish the laundry before we left. With the sun bright and the breeze brisk, this week’s washing quickly dried.

I like Brutus’s doctor. She’s in her early thirties, bubbly, happy, and it’s easy to see why Brutus was eager to do all his tricks for her.

She took him for a walk and immediately said the problem was in his knee, not his hips. That was a huge plus. Hip dysphasia is common in big muscular dogs.

She tried to feel the knee, but said he is so muscular that she couldn’t give him the proper diagnosis and the knee should be x-rayed. I innocently asked how much that would cost.

I about fell through the floor; almost five-hundred dollars. I then innocently asked if that was ONLY for the diagnosis or would that include the knee surgery, if needed. She said that was just the preliminary.

I have never been known to be shy and asked the next obvious question; how much would the surgery cost if needed?

Baring any complications; three thousand dollars.

I sat scratching Brutus’s head and simply replied, “That’s not going to happen. If he’s that bad and suffering, we’ll have to have him put to sleep.”

The vet quickly changed her line of thinking and told me there was another option… to reduce the swelling and keep him pain-free and active through medications, and not overly expensive ones at that. She said that many dogs live to see their twilight years while taking these medications and lead healthy, active, lives.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Already, it appears she was correct. After only two rounds of medication, our puppy is much more active this morning than in the past several weeks and he’s already beginning to put more weight on his back leg. This looks like it will have a happy ending.

Brutus was tired after a full day of performing at the animal clinic

I’ll have to say that even in pain, Brutus put on quite the show at the animal hospital Tuesday afternoon. He quickly attracted the attention of all the vet techs and other animal owners and made each feel special by performing his whole array of tricks. In return, he was offered treats, most of which he declined.

In other Brutus news, I was commended that he is in such great condition, no fat, fantastic muscling, and an A-plus personality. I made mention that I once heard dogs imitate and take on the characteristics of their owners. The doc gave a hearty laugh and told me I should have been a comedian.

She commented Brutus’s toenails are worn, indicating he walks and runs a great deal. I told her I have no toenails (I really don’t) from years of hiking. She suppressed a giggle, paused from her exam, then asked if I would like a treat. I replied by saying only if she’d scratch my belly and behind my ears. We both laughed and called the conversation a draw.

We stopped by the Vision Center so Sargie's good friend, Michelle, could visit Brutus. As you can see, they're buddies.

Sargie and I met for lunch and we ended up in Iron Mountain's most popular brown bag eatery, the cemetery, where we were entertained by a flock of wild turkeys grazing around the various headstones. 

I didn’t arrive back home until late afternoon and attempted to catch up on a few chores I would have normally done during the day. Sargie was home early and we enjoyed the last of the garden vegetables in the form of a salad along with a couple of grilled pork loin chops.

I’m not certain what’s on the agenda for today. I’m not to walk or run Brutus until he completely stops limping so we won’t be doing our usual exercise. To go hiking without him seems almost cruel, but I might try. I still have one more crate of goodies to put away in the barn and then I’ll no doubt take a trike ride. There are scabby potatoes that have to be dug in the garden and it’s time to begin pulling the old stalks and vines of the various plants, see which vegetables might be stored to prolong the eating season, and begin the process of cleaning the greenhouse, getting it ready for next spring. Geesh, there’s a lot to do around here.

But then I’m not surprised because as you know, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

The back trail is beginning to look like fall

Tuesday morning's fog settles in

September 24, 2013 – Tuesday

44 degrees/fog/calm

Pentoga Road

I know there’s an outdoors somewhere on the other side of my windows, but I can’t see it this morning. I let Brutus out a few minutes ago and he was instantly absorbed into some kind of primordial soup-looking stuff. The fog is thick this morning.

I worry about Sargie having to drive in this glop. I have to believe that deer can’t see through it any better than she can and they are known to run with no discretion in front of any oncoming vehicle. It’s a game that’s played daily.

Speaking of game, golf was the name of ours on Monday. Neighbor Bob picked me up at 10:30 and we made our way to the local golf course where we enjoyed eighteen holes of pure joy, fun, and a bit of frustration.

I’ll have to say in my own defense, for the most part, I kept the ball on the fairway. I’ve turned into one of those little old men the sons and I used to make fun of thirty years ago. For the most part, I hit the ball straight ahead down the middle of the fairway. What a young guy can do in one stroke, it takes me two… or three… or four.  But still, every now and then, there’s a lucky roll or a fortunate bounce. In the end, I lost three balls, two to water hazards and one that flew deep into the woods.

Bob is a retired math teacher so we talked a bit of school, but mostly, we enjoyed the picture perfect day accompanied by some of the finest scenery in the UP. The course lies along the shores of one of our local lakes and regardless of ability, is a joy to play.

And I have to say, Bob has a great set of eyes. Unlike many hack golfers, I have no trouble keeping my head down as I swing. I can’t see the ball once it leaves the tee, so I simply turn around and face whoever is spotting my ball and judge his body language as a barometer of my abilities. A smile and lively movement means I hit it right on. A blank look with no movement at all is probably a pretty good indicator that the PGA won’t be calling anytime soon. The phone hasn’t rang since I got home yesterday afternoon.

I dug a few potatoes for supper last night and it appears the entire sum of this year’s crop has a bad case of potato scab. All the spuds appear to have leprosy. We’re so disappointed as we thoroughly enjoyed last year’s crop of Pontiac Reds. I’ll dig the entire row this fall and throw them away. Next year, a new scab-resistant variety will be planted in a different place. All I can do is rotate crops.

Sargie works early today. Other than grading a pile of papers, I’m not sure what is on my agenda. My knee is hurting a bit from the twisting of swinging a golf club, so I doubt there’ll be any miles hiked or biked.

I’m not worried about being bored. As we all know, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…