November 30, 2013 – Saturday morning

24 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

Just like that, the temperature is almost thirty degrees warmer this morning than last. According to Carl the Weatherman, the highs for the next three days are to be close to the freezing mark, what is normal for this time of the year. I also see he is forecasting a HIGH of 7 above zero for the end of next week.

Today’s my sister, Barb’s, sixty-fourth birthday. Growing up, she was quick to point out that she was, indeed, older, implying more mature and wise… and she was.

Being less than perfect, I was always kind of jealous. No matter how hard I tried to age, she continued to be the older sibling. Barb got to stay home alone first, drove the family car first, and even got to talk with her friends on the phone for more than thirty seconds at a time.

Forward the clock sixty years. I’m happy to tell you that I’ve matured and am no longer jealous of her advanced age. In fact, it’s good to be the baby brother! Happy birthday, sis.  Enjoy your day.

Saturday was a lazy one on Pentoga Road. After fixing pancakes for breakfast, Mel was off to meet her mother and sister in Iron Mountain and then travel onto Appleton, Wisconsin, for a day of Black Friday shopping. Macrea, Sargie, and I opted to be lazy for the rest of the morning.

We ventured into town shortly after noon. Sargie found a few treasures at Insurance Liquidators and later, purchased what was needed so she and Macrea could make French meat pies.

Neighbor Mike and some of his visiting family came over and asked if they could borrow a handful of birdseed. He wanted his company to have the pleasure of feeding the wild birds by hand. Though there weren’t many, his guests weren’t disappointed.

As planned, Sargie and Macrea spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen and in the end, made thirteen French meat pies, all of which are now in one of our freezers. Macrea said they didn’t have room in their freezer to take any with, so it appears there’ll be no shortage of meat pies in our household this coming year. Sargie and I both thoroughly enjoy them and making each disappear won’t be a problem.

I spent the afternoon working up firewood, playing fetch with Brutus, and otherwise fiddle/farting around outside with an emphasis on the later. I plowed the drive, gabbed with Luke on the phone… I don’t know that anything was really accomplished; it was just a nice day to be outside. I was happy to leave Sargie and Macrea alone, to have some real mother/son bonding and talking time without interruption. Their making of meat pies has become a tradition and is one of the early markers of the Christmas season to come.

Later in the day, I managed to get all the grandbaby Christmas shopping done online. That is a huge relief… to have that out of the way. It’s been years since I purchased kiddy gifts on my own. In fact, I’m not sure I ever have. It was time I started and there’s no time like the present. I only hope they like them.

Since Mel was still in Green Bay late in the evening, she decided to stay at her mom’s house in Iron Mountain. Macrea will catch a ride with Sargie this morning.

Today… hmm. It’s to be moderate and that means I’ll walk my usual five miles, hopefully get all the ice fishing gear ready for this coming season, and cut some spruce boughs for the front window boxes. And then, there’s that nap that increasingly seems to interrupt my normally busy day shortly after noontime.

If only you had my life, but I’m not surprised. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Making meat pies can tire a guy (and a bulldog) out.

Brielle, Auntie Sargie, and I, were hard at play with Kangabunny. What can I say? We're a hit with the under-two crowd.

November 29, 2013 – Friday

-6 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

I threw my diet to the wind yesterday afternoon and heaped my plate full of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberries, and all the other goodies that go along with the holiday. After being on a fairly strict diet these past four weeks, I’m paying for yesterday’s gluttony. I’ve learned my lesson and will never eat that much again… until Christmas.

We watched the Packers/Lions game. I’ve not seen the boys in green and gold look that bad since the 70’s and 80’s. I hope this isn’t the beginning of another twenty-five year drought in championship teams. I’m not certain I’ll live that long to see more glory days. Oh well, I’m not a mere fair weather fan. I’m with them through thick and thin. Hopefully there’ll be more thick than thin.

It looked more like Christmas rather than Thanksgiving. Taken from Holly and Ross's deck.

I think I’ll let the pictures do the talking this morning. We had so much fun and it appears from the texts and pictures I received from the East Coast, three of the four Pennington boys and their families were doing the same.

Josh, Matt, and Luke (and families) gathered for Thanksgiving at Matt's house outside of Portsmouth, New Hampshire

How did they get all the grandbabies to sit still long enough for a group photo?

It was Megan's birthday (Josh's wife) on Thursday, Luke's the day before. 

Looks as though Ellie and Coleman are telling Aunt Jessica they're ready to eat.

Mel and Macrea arrived at Pentoga Road about an hour after Sargie and I got home. Mel’s got a horrible cold and was miserable last night. I hope she slept well.

I’m not sure what’s on the agenda today. I think I’ll take my walk this morning as soon as it’s daylight. With the temperature dipping well below zero, it’s time to quit talking about getting the ice fishing equipment ready and actually do it.

I think Macrea and Sargie are going to make French meat pies today, a unique combination of mashed potatoes and sausage, all folded between the top and bottom layers of a piecrust. It’s one of my favorites… but not exactly diet food.

Not much else to report at this time.

Time to get another coffee and listen to news while waiting for sunrise.

After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Two of my little guys must have played too hard and eaten too much. I see Josh is clutching his stuffed animal. Regardless of age, some things never change.

November 28, 2013 – Thanksgiving Day

15 degrees/snow/breezy

Pentoga Road

I was lying in bed earlier this morning, snuggled next to Sargie, staring up into the dark, thinking of past Thanksgivings. It’s become an annual habit. It’s a prayer, really, a pillow prayer of gratitude.

I was thinking of one particular Thanksgiving, almost sixty years ago, when we were at Grandma and Grandpa Reinhart’s on North Cherry Street in Galesburg, Illinois. There was Aunt Nancy and Uncle Glen, Uncle Bill and Aunt Phyllis… or Aunt Pete as we called her, and all the cousins were there as were my Great Grandma and Grandpa Astaford, Great Aunt Ila and Uncle Kenny, and my Great Uncle George and Aunt Jeri. It was a house filled with laughter, the smells of food, kids and adults, and one couldn’t move two feet without tripping over a toy, a baby, or a folding chair that had been hurriedly set up to help accommodate the family overflow.

Nothing special happened that day, but I well remember standing off in one corner, watching it all and thinking how happy everyone was… and in turn, that made me happy. I was just a little guy; a toddler really, but the memory is so vivid. The smell of Grandpa’s pipe, Grandma’s laughter, kiddies laughing and screaming in delight…

I wrote Mom earlier this morning saying, wouldn’t it be nice if we could turn back the clock for just one day to a time when Dad was still here… and we could be back with Grandma and Grandpa and all my aunts, uncles, and cousins. The air would be filled with sights and smells and sounds… just one more time for just one day.

So to begin with today, I’m grateful for the memories of past Thanksgivings that happened long ago, for my grandparents, both sides, who gave me such joy, and all my aunts and uncles, most of whom have passed on. I’m looking forward to joining them someday and having another Thanksgiving.

I’m grateful and thankful for Sargie, the woman who entered my life over two years ago. Neither of us was looking. In fact, the last thing I wanted was a relationship.  Thankfully, God did for each of us what we were incapable of doing for ourselves. He gave us each other.

I’m so thankful for Mom. As the years go by, Mom remains a major player in our lives. In native speak, Mom would be called a wise elder. If I live to see my eighties or nineties, I want to be the guy’s equivalent to Mom. She’s today’s spunky, perky, grandma. She’s here, she’s there, but most of all, she’s Mom, always available if we need her, fiercely independent, and a great example of how one should live life.

My boys… what father wouldn’t be grateful to have four sons like mine. I don’t get to see them nearly enough, but that’s okay. Our relationships are truly those born of a modern age. We email on a continual basis, text, video conference, and of course, occasionally talk on the phone. Each continues to be successful in his profession, those who have children are great fathers and husbands… I’m grateful for my boys… grateful beyond words.

And of course, my grandbabies and their mothers. Though we’ve been acquaintances for years, it seems I’m just getting to truly know my daughters-in-law. This summer brought a couple of heart-felt, getting-to-know-you conversations, and I came home feeling like the father of daughters as well as sons.

My grandbabies… my beautiful grandbabies. I’m so thankful for all. I often wished I lived closer so I could play with them, spoil them rotten, then ship ‘em home. All are doing well and they in turn should be grateful to have such wonderful, kind, and loving parents.

Sargie’s family… the Mighty Milligans. I went from a near-hermit state to becoming a member of a close, very tight knit, Irish Catholic family, who laughs, works, celebrates, and loves together. It makes no difference if you’re related by blood, a neighbor from the old days, or a new friend. When one is with the Milligan family, he is accepted as a Milligan. That family of love and laughter accepts and loves me unconditionally, just the way I am; and I love them back. They’re real and loving and they’ll give you the shirts off their backs. For that, I’m grateful.

I’m thankful for Sargie’s sons. Macrea and Mel are expecting their first baby early next summer and it’s our hope that after, our home will be filled with the squeals and laughter of the first of many grandchildren from the Milligan side. This house is way too quiet.

And I have to mention Mr. Milligan. He’s my inspiration and my hero. Even from the Veterans Hospital, he’s still the patriarch of the Milligan family. Quick to smile and laugh with never a harsh gesture or word, he’s the father-in-law I’ve never had. I hope he knows how much I truly love him.

My good friends… I’m talking REAL friends; those who would take a bullet for me. They are few, but then no one has many true friends. There’s Garry and Yooper Brother Mark, Preacher Pat… and of course, Uncle Bobby, Mandy Jo, and Aunt Joanne. I’d take a bullet for any of them. They are my family just as much as those who are my flesh and blood.

Brutus. My constant companion… a true gift from God. He’s huge, he’s a slob, he sheds and slops his food and water everywhere, but he’s become a part of me. Brutus is never more than a few feet away. 

Though he’s afraid of the dark, puppies, and the deep woods, where I go, so goes Brutus. All I need say is, “Home,” and he ambles out of the woods in a beeline fashion, making sure I’m in tow. There’s something about wrapping my arms around that huge boulder-sized head of his and giving him a hug that brings me great joy.

And I’m grateful for our home on Pentoga Road. It had become merely a house surrounded by a bunch of trees until Sargie came into my life. Now it’s a home, often entirely too quiet, but one filled with the love that only a man and woman can share.

Excuse me, I have to begin getting ready to head to the Mighty Milligan Thanksgiving Day feast where there’ll be moms and dads, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends from days of old and new.

Along with others, I will watch the Packers/Lions football game, and eat. After, I’ll probably remove myself to a corner and simply watch, knowing all who are present truly love each other and are very happy. In turn, that will make me happy.

So it’s time to get ready, but then I’m not surprised.

After all, a man’s work is never done. And for that, I’m most grateful.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

Monday's walk began in the sunshine but ended with heavy snow squalls

November 27, 2013 – Tuesday

9 degrees/clear/breezy

Pentoga Road

Hey little Lukey, Happy Birthday!! My second son continues his climb towards old age today. A fire fighter/ EMT, trapper, outdoorsman, and do’er of good deeds, Luke will no doubt be working. Seems the fire department isn’t very sensitive when it comes to celebrating one’s special day.

Hard to believe this is the same person who used to crawl up on my belly in the middle of the night, lay face down, his nose touching mine, drool onto my face as his leaky diapers dribbled down my belly and onto the sheets.

He always was and is a daddy’s boy. No matter where I went, he followed. Before his school days, I don’t believe I had more than five minutes in any given day that he wasn’t trying to follow me, in the truck or field with me, or otherwise somewhere close by.

Though I thought that was a real pain in my immature and young parenting years, I look back at it now and think what a joy it was and how I’d like to have that opportunity to do it all over again… although Luke now weighs close to 250 lbs. I don’t believe I’d want him nose to nose, drooling onto my face or experiencing his leaky diapers in the middle of the night.

Happy Birthday, Son. I love you.

Page Two

I can’t believe we’ve gone this long without the furnace kicking on this year. That being said, it sure is nippy in the house this morning… well, actually, it’s not that bad, fifty degrees. The wood stove is full and crackling and the house will soon be warm again. There’s a portable heater in the bathroom that I turn on before waking Sargie so she has a warm haven in which to shower and get ready for work. By the time she’s finished, the house is usually warm.

Sargie gets a bit upset with me as I tend to fill the woodbox full to overflowing. She has a point. She doesn't care for the fact that I store Brutus's ball thrower wedged between the top and the wall. It's just so... convenient.

Walking Tuesday morning reminded me of my Alaska travel days, those times I’d take off across the arctic circle on snowmobile when often, I encountered ground storms. These aren’t nearly as severe or long lasting, but yesterday’s squalls reduced visibility and brought everything to a slow crawl. I don’t worry about myself as I’m unable see very far anyway, but rather it’s the oncoming traffic, usually the four or five vehicles in the five miles, that I meet on my way back home. One car came close to mowing me down yesterday. Thankfully, I’d stepped into a ditch, far off the road, out of harm’s way.

The rest of the day was spent grading papers. As of last night, I am completely caught up. No doubt, there’ll be a dozen more or so that came in during the night.

Brutus and I spent a couple of hours outside, mostly playing fetch and tug of war. For a big dog, he has plenty of energy and if it’s not released in one form or the other, he drives me crazy during the evening hours. The pup will pace, wage a mock war with an invisible dog while chewing a bone, or worse, wait until I cross one leg over the other, then walk under and flip it up into the air with his Volkswagen-size head hoping I’ll react.  It’s his excuse to entice me down to the floor for a wrestling match, one I’ve yet to win. When I tell him to settle down, he’ll sit on my feet and not allow me to get up then flop his head on my lap and stare directly at me… and stare… and stare… then stare some more until I pet him or scratch behind his ears.

But an hour of exercise during the day dictates my puppy is entirely too tired to do any of the above during the evening hours. If given plenty of activity during the day, he prefers to sleep on the hearth, next to the wood stove. I prefer he sleep there too.

He’s been trained to be my constant companion, but sometimes a guy needs a bit of breathing room.

Sargie was home late last night, but still made it in time to watch the last of Dancing With the Stars. No doubt, we’ll go into withdrawal now that the season is over.

Today I’m making cranberry sauce to share at the Milligan family Thanksgiving meal; the good old-fashioned, pop in your mouth, kind. None of that sissy, Jello, stuff for me. I’m also making more sweet rolls to take tomorrow, plus I get to peel and cut a million rutabagas to be boiled and mashed.

I hope Sargie and I can leave fairly early for Iron Mountain tomorrow so I can stake out a good seat for the Packers game. Part of the Milligan Clan is Lions fans, but the rest cheer for the Packers. It will be a fun and spirited afternoon of cheering, booing, eating, laughing, and loving. The older I get, the more I love and appreciate it all. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for.

Sargie works early today, but thankfully, is off Thanksgiving and the day after. I think she’s planning on doing her Black Friday Christmas shopping on line. I may do the same. It’s certain you won’t find me in any store this Friday. There’s a chance you could spot me on the local lake ice fishing though!

Speaking of that, I still have to get my ice fishing stuff ready for the upcoming season of putting meat on the table. Such responsibilities and stress; but then, I’m not surprised.

After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

November 26, 2013 – Tuesday

18 degrees/snowy/windy

Pentoga Road

Monday was baking day and for whatever reason, I’ve been in the mood to create culinary delicacies. I think I’ve become infected with the holiday spirit. Mom’s coming for Christmas, as is Andy. Hopefully, we’ll play host to Sargie’s boys during the holidays, and then there’s always the big Milligan Doin’s. Thanksgiving’s at Holly and Ross’s, Christmas at Jeanne’s and Boyd’s. Nick is hosting the Christmas Eve family gathering this season. He has a new home and is anxious to show it off.

           

There’ll be plenty to eat and drink, hugs, kisses, and well wishes for all. Yup, it’s getting to be that time of year.

By day’s end on Monday, I’d made and baked three pumpkin pies using Grandma Reinhardt’s recipe. It’s filled with few spices, but rather contains large amounts of milk, eggs, and sugar, with a pinch or two of cinnamon thrown in. It’s the only recipe we ate when I was growing up and in my adult years, it’s been the makings of my pie of choice.

I was feeling sassy yesterday and decided to push the envelope by making sweet rolls. These contained white Nestle morsels and dried cranberries, all covered with a thick white glaze. I think I’ll keep that recipe. Our local paper prints a holiday recipe booklet of the best concoctions submitted by readers and when I spotted the sweet roll recipe, I had to try it. I’m going to attempt to make another batch to bring with us on Thursday.

Sargie had a long day on Monday, so I wanted the house to smell really good when she walked in the door last night. I had a couple of loaves of frozen bread dough and had let those thaw and rise during the day. When Sargie called last night saying she was finally on her way home, I timed baking those with her arrival. It worked. The fragrance of baking bread greeted her as she walked in the door. Oven hot, it didn’t take long to cut a few slices and enjoy each, slathered in butter.

In fact, last night’s meal probably wouldn’t be considered too wholesome or well rounded. Sweet rolls, bread, and pumpkin pie for dessert. Ah, what the heck, you have to color outside the lines once in a while.

I spent three hours yesterday grading final projects and weekly assignments. So far, so good. My kids are outstanding this semester and extremely responsible. I wish I could carry them for the rest of the year... and next... and the one after.

Last night was spent watching Dancing With the Stars. I hate to see my favorite television show end for the season. I enjoy any kind of talent venue.

Sargie works late today. I’m going to take my walk then grade papers. With another cold front coming through, the lake ice should be approaching a safe thickness. I guess it’s time to drag out all the ice fishing gear, change line, get the tip ups ready for another season of use, and crank up the gas auger.

But first, it’s time for 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…

Sunset over Pentoga Road on Sunday evening

November 25, 2013 – Monday

22 degrees/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

Hard to believe a month from this very moment will be Christmas day. The dimension of time seems to be going faster and faster. Wasn’t it just a couple of months ago I planted garden? Or a few weeks past when the drive was paved?  I swear it was just in the past two weeks that I ran the mower over the grass for the last time. Oh wait a minute, it really was only two weeks ago. Never mind.

It got warm during the night, but a big wind is accompanying the rise in temperatures. I don’t believe it’s to get over thirty today before the thermometer heads back down. That’s okay, I’ve mentally made up my mind that I’ll be ice fishing in the next week or so. Actually, I’ve set a week from today as the first time I’ll go… assuming there’s at least three or four inches of ice on the lake.

I hope to be ice fishing about two hundred yards straight out there a week from today.

Sunday began early, way too early, and after doing any correspondence, I decided to take my walk. It was only four above zero and I had to step quickly to keep warm.

Coyote tracks alongside the road in front of our house

I was chilled when I got back; no, I was downright cold. Rubbing my hands together while standing alongside the wood stove, I heard Sargie stirring upstairs. She usually tries to sleep in on those days she has off.

The girl’s not slow to put her frozen feet on me when initially getting into bed each night. I just assumed she’d be happy to repay the favor.

I headed upstairs, took off my cold clothes, and climbed between the sheets. She was so nice and warm but I’ll tell you what… that woman can move at lightening speed.

I had to talk quickly… about love, sharing (in this instance, one’s body heat), what’s fair for one is fair for the other, and philosophically mentioned the fact that sometimes, we have to take one for the team. Sargie’s the most kind and loving person I’ve ever known, truly, but when it comes to allowing me to plaster my shivering body next to hers, I quickly discovered there is no such thing as team or fairness.

Still, she was a trooper, but in the end, all I really did was make her a bit peeved and cool her down to my temperature. It became obvious that no amount of snuggling was going to get me warm. In the end, I sprang from bed, sprinted down the steps, and shivered in front of the shower stall until the water warmed to near scalding, then stepped in and allowed it cook me back to 98.6.

I watched the Packers play to a tie with the Vikings on Sunday. Our playoff chances are becoming slimmer as the weeks go by, but I fully understand we can’t be world champions every year. Sometimes the glory needs to be spread around, let others have a chance at winning the Super Bowl.

Page Two

It amazes me the number of people who read this blog and their countries of origin. Those who read Tales from Pentoga on Sunday were from the following countries:

It's hard to believe that Tales from Pentoga is read completely around the world. I'd love to meet the readers from South Africa, India, or really, any of the foreign countries. Actually, I have corresponded with a few over the years.

We went for our usual Sunday afternoon drive and made a stop at the grocery store. I am looking forward to making a couple of pumpkin pies using Grandma Reinhardt's recipe today. I’ve never tasted pumpkin pie as good as Grandma’s. There are a couple of other recipes I want to experiment with. If they’re good enough, I may take some extra goodies to the big Milligan Thanksgiving meal. And if they’re a flop? Brutus will like them. He loves me unconditionally, regardless of my occasional culinary failures.

Speaking of food, I’ve lost exactly ten pounds in the past three weeks. I started weighing in at 215.5 lbs. and yesterday, when I stepped on the scales, they tipped at 205.5. I’d love to get down to my usual 200 by Christmas, but doubt that will happen. My goal is to be under 210 lbs. when I emerge on the other side of the holidays and lose the rest this winter and early spring.

Sargie works today and will have dinner with Mr. Milligan this evening. Other than play in the kitchen, I have copious amounts of papers to read and grade; probably half a day’s worth. Those silly things just keep appearing in my email’s inbox. Darn university; they pay me then expect me to teach in return. 

I’m not surprised. After all a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Our much bigger and deeper lake is just beginning to freeze

Blizzard-like conditions were common on Saturday in the north country

November 24, 2013 – Sunday

5 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

My intentions were to sleep in this morning, but having to heed nature’s call dictated I rise from bed and put my feet on the cold floor. After that, regardless how hard I tried, sleep wouldn’t come.

I have to say, getting up to fifty-degree temperatures in the house will wake the dead. We’re making an attempt at using the furnace as little as possible. With fuel oil so expensive, it just makes sense. The wood stove keeps the living room in the mid-seventies, but the rest of the house tends to be cooler. Sargie’s used to a cool bedroom and we turn our electric blanket off before falling to sleep each night. Neither of us has any problem slumbering the night away.

I well remember the days of living in Hill Top Camp north of the arctic circle. It wasn't uncommon to awaken to temperatures inside well below zero. Fifty degrees? Mere childsplay. 

The grand experiment continues. I planted southern blueberries into large pots last spring. They grew well during the summer months and now, with winter's arrival, I've tipped them on their sides, hoping that the snow will insulate the growth and new shoots. I'll right the pots next spring and hopefully, we'll have giant, rabbit eye blueberries during the summer months. 

It took quite a while to get home from Iron Mountain Saturday morning. Lake effect snow squalls blowing from Lake Superior made visibility almost zero at times. I pulled off the road more than once and let it blow and snow. Minutes later, the sun would peek from behind the clouds and I’d continue on my way.

Most the day was spent grading papers, throwing wood inside the stove, and/or cleaning the house and doing laundry. It was too windy to enjoy any outside activity, but the time flew. It seemed there was always one chore or the other to do and I didn’t even get to take my Grandpa nap.

Sargie was home early last night and we enjoyed huge bowls of popcorn in front of the television.

I’m not sure what today will bring. I’ve got to break this three game losing streak and coach the Packers onto victory. I think today’s the day we begin our comeback bid for a playoff spot.

Sargie gets a rare day off. I imagine we’ll take a drive sooner or later, visit Insurance Liquidators and see what treasures have come into the store we can’t live without, and do a bit of driving around. In another week or two, we’ll begin taking an occasional night drive to look at the Christmas lights. It’s what we do here for excitement in these north woods of America.

But first, it’s time to get another cup of coffee, listen to the news, and think deep thoughts. As you and I well know, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

It was opening day of deer season in Wisconsin on Saturday. I saw more than one deer strapped to the top of a car while coming home from Iron Mountain.

Sargie and Pam trying to decide which frames look the best on my face. I really never was part of the discussion.

 November 23, 2013 – Saturday

4 degrees/windy/snowy

Pentoga Road

I suppose just because the temperature is in the low single digits, this means that summer is officially over. I saw where one of the world organizations said that this was to be one of the warmest years on record. They need to get away from their desks and visit the North Country. It was a cold and long spring, a cool and rainy summer, and this current winter is coming in like a lion. Oh well, those people are appointed politicians. Need I say any more?

Saturday began with the usual five-mile trek. It went well and I was home within an hour and a half. I’m still not back to my former hiking speed, but it’s coming.

A flock of snow birds in the middle of the road. I'm not sure what their official name is, but when the flock flies, it looks like a mass of snow flakes. I don't know where they're from, but they show up every winter.

I spent the rest of the morning preparing two deer hindquarters for smoking. I injected each with a combination of melted butter and honey, plus a combination of other herbs and spices, that if I told you what they were, I’d have to do you in. It’s a secret family recipe dating back to yesterday.

Injected with honey and butter and ready for the smoker

A trip to town was made to run some errands. I stopped by Yooper Brother Mark’s plant for a visit. As usual, the man is running a marathon that never seems to end, but the animal bedding industry is much like farming; it has to make hay while the sun shines. Yooper Brother Mark is making hay this weekend.

I installed the plow on the four-wheeler in anticipation of the forecast snow this weekend. It took me a while to figure it all out. With magnifiers on, I crawled under the machine and found the two points where to attach the arms. The rest was easy and within a few minutes, it was installed and ready to go.

Unfortunately, any snow that had fallen the night before last was largely melted, but I found a bit in the shade where I could test the plow. It works well. One thing is already obvious; we’re going to love the paved drive this winter. No more gravel in the yard, no more mud next spring.

It was well before dark when I made my way to Iron Mountain. Other than a few deer hunters, traffic was light and I had no problems. I ordered new glasses last week and Sargie, Michelle, and Pam, all had fun suggesting various frames. The ones I liked, they didn’t, and vice versa. In the end, since Sargie’s the one who has to look at me the most, I told her to pick out whichever ones she liked and those would be good enough. To me, they look almost identical to those I already have… but then, she chose the current frames too.

Mr. Milligan continues to look good and was in a good mood last night when we stopped to visit him. He’d just returned from having a cat scan performed and seemed to be so happy to be surrounded by three of his daughters, all fussing over him. At one point, he looked at me and laughed. The man knows a good thing when it happens.

We stopped and had a bite to eat. It was getting on by the time we arrived home and the evening was short.

Sargie works today. I’ll ride over with her this morning and get the Blazer. I have several final projects to read, laundry to do, and floors to sweep and vacuum. After that, it’ll be time to begin thinking about how I can coach the Packers to victory on Sunday, then of course, there’s the mandatory afternoon nap.

After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Don't worry, Mom, Sargie wouldn't let me get these.

Jimmy the Chickadee is consoling Neighbor Mike after coming up empty and not getting a deer last Monday.

November 21, 2013 – Friday

19 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

The World Wide Web is once again flowing and I’m a happy camper this morning. I no longer will have to climb into the car to chug into town and borrow the grocer’s free wifi in order to teach my classes and read assignments.

Sargie helping me to clean out the barn and shop Sunday afternoon in preparation for the cold and snowy weather. 

I could write about all that happened this past week, but honestly, after enjoying the freedom of being away from the internet for a few days, there’s too much to tell, so I’ll just hit the high points with a few pictures.

I smoked a hind and front quarter of a deer this past week. Needless to say, it's good... darn good.

I am happy to say that after Sunday night’s gusts of over 60 mph, one weather report said over 70, the greenhouse stood strong and nary a panel was lost. We can’t say that for the antenna, however.

I subbed a couple of days this past week. I’m not sure I want to sub any more, certainly not before Thanksgiving.

Look closely at the top of the tree and you'll see Eric, the installer, cutting away a few branches in preparation for mounting the new internet antenna up high... almost seventy feet up in the air.

The boys used a pulley to hoist the new dish into the tree

Finished!

It’s to get down to zero tomorrow night. I'm hoping to be ice fishing a week from now. Stay tuned.

The road conditions during my walk on Thursday

Sargie will be leaving soon and I want to strap on my shoes and get ready to hike my 5 miles. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Everything, plus the Blazer (and Brutus), fit back into the barn.