January 30, 2014 – Thursday

20 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

It was nice waking up this morning to a warm house… 65 degrees. The fact that the fire didn’t go out during the night helped, but the biggest factor is that it’s a full forty degrees warmer this morning than it was a mere 48 hours ago. What a difference a day or two makes. We’ll enjoy it as the temperatures are to dip again after a twelve-hour reprieve.

A bit of frostbite following Tuesday's walk

 I spent Wednesday morning reading assignments and making up this week’s test. A couple of students were given the boot who had yet to attend. I wrote them a few days ago and received no response. We’re well into the semester now and it would be difficult for them to catch up and not very fair to the rest.

A trip was made into town to purchase some gasket adhesive for the wood stove. I’ve been tired of the gasket falling each time I open the door to add wood and have waited for warmer days since doing it correctly means to let the stove cool down, clean the groove where the gasket fits, let it gradually dry, etc. etc.

I stopped by the plant and talked with Yooper Brother Mark for a few minutes. The lucky guy… he and Sheri are heading to Florida for a few days this next week. They own a floating time share and decided to take theirs at a resort far south of here this year. I had some banking to do and saw Sheri there where she was conducting some business of her own.

It was too nice a day to stay inside. The thermometer was registering 13 degrees… THIRTEEN ABOVE ZERO. The breeze was stiff, but as they say, I had to make hay while the sun shone. A few minutes later, I was hoofing south on Pentoga Road to the Brule River. It was a wonderful time, probably the most I’ve enjoyed walking in a year.

The road over the Mighty Brule is turned into a formal snowmobile trail during the winter months.

The take-out point on the Brule River. If you look closely, you can see a lone wolf's tracks on the ice.

Brutus and I played fetch after until we lost his ball. Sargie brought home a bag full of tennis balls last night. When the snow melts this spring, Brutus is going to think the Easter Bunny visited and left him all those balls under the snow during the winter months.

Sargie wasn’t home until past 9 last night. She is working early today, but thankfully, has Friday and Saturday off.

I see there’s three to six inches of snow forecast to fall today, then the wind’s to pick up and the temperature plummet once again. Looks as though Brutus and I will be clearing the drive and patio… again.

That's a car buried under all that snow. Thankfully, it's not ours.

We’re heading to Green Bay Friday morning for the day. As mentioned in yesterday’s log, I’m ready to get away for a few hours. Even when I lived in the cabin, I’d occasionally throw care to the wind after being cabin-bound for days and fight blizzards and cold to make my way the seventeen miles on snowmobile into Kotzebue to see Brother Elmer and the rest of the family. I can feel a good trip to Harbor Freight coming on, a Fleet Farm stop, a stroll through Sam’s Club and the Mall, and possibly, inhaling a good steak. Oh yeah, we’re going to Title Town.

But first, I need to take a loaf of homemade bread out of the oven, pour some more coffee, and think deep thoughts.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Looking at the snow on the kayaks, it sure seems as though summer is a long ways off.

January 29, 2014 – Wednesday

-4/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

I’m up entirely too early this morning. After putting wood in the stove at midnight, I went back to bed and awakened at 4 AM to load it again. What I found was a house whose temperature was in the low forties and a cold stove. Rather than catching, the wood had smothered any coals that lie underneath.

There was nothing to do but get dressed and build the fire from scratch, something I’ve not had to do in the past month. Keeping a fire going is like baking with sourdough; you always keep a pinch to begin the next batch.

As I sat shivering on the floor in front of stove this morning, I was reminded of those days in the Arctic Circle, when I’d awaken to -30 degrees inside the camp and desperately try to get a small pile of kindling to catch fire. This wasn’t that bad, but it served as a reminder to take better care of my coals overnight as long as this cold spell lasts. Currently, it’s up to 55 degrees in the living room and the house should be approaching a balmy 70 by the time I wake up Sargie.

I rode with Sargie five miles down the road on her way to work and walked home Tuesday morning. With the temperature registering -24 and a heavy northwest headwind, I probably should have stayed home, but I get cabin fever and my feet get itchy to walk somewhere, to put one in front of the other.

In the end, I made it just fine. My face got frostbit in several places, but it was nothing that hasn’t happened hundreds of times before. Right now, it looks as though I have a patchy sunburn. In another day or two, it will be unnoticeable.

The rest of the day was spent inside, keeping the stove filled with wood, grading, reading, doing correspondence, watching a movie, and doing a bit of cleaning. Brutus and I slipped out at one point so I could work up a wheelbarrow full of wood. Despite his delicate puppy dog feet, we also spent time playing fetch. He has plenty of energy when in the warmth of the house, usually sitting alongside my chair hoping I’ll get up so he can walk with me. Where I go, he goes. I go to the kitchen, he walks with me. To the garage? He’s out the door, even for a few seconds, then back in the house when I enter. It’s a great thing when we’re outdoors, but after being confined inside this winter, it could drive me crazy.

Brutus’s assistance especially wasn’t appreciated yesterday afternoon while I was perched upon the throne in the reading room and had failed to close the bathroom door tightly. Brutus used his head to bang the door open then proceeded to walk in, sit in front of me, and lay his head in my lap. Bless his heart. I know he’s trained to be with me, but there are times I wish he’d be a bit more selfish.

So Brutus and I played fetch late yesterday afternoon after until he simply ran out of energy. The little guy was one tired puppy last night and seemed to have no trouble imitating a bear rug in the middle of the living room floor.

Luke called last night saying the kids wanted to read to us via Skype. Sargie and I spent the next half hour being thoroughly entertained by Coleman and Abigail. Coleman, who is in first grade, read an entire book, and Abigail recited some poetry. We loved it all and are hoping that they will call back soon to read again. I’ve got nothing but time and what better way than to share it with grandbabies?

Sargie was home early and arrived bearing a family-sized pizza. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re pigs, or possibly it’s the cold weather, but regardless, there was little left over. We spent the rest of the evening watching television. It was a good night to hibernate.

I rather imagine that today will be a repeat of yesterday… and the day before… and the day before that. Temperatures are to moderate a bit and it’s actually to get above zero. Unfortunately, the ten-day forecast indicates little relief and I heard a meteorologist say last night that February is looking to be much the same as January has been. I’ll spend most of my day inside feeding the stove.

Sargie closes tonight so it will be long day for her. Thankfully, she is off on Friday and Saturday this week; a rare two days in a row. I think we’ll go to Green Bay for at least one of those days. I’m ready to get out of Dodge, even if it’s a temporary reprieve, and Sargie’s always up for a road trip.

So with that, I think I might actually sneak back upstairs and crawl into bed alongside Sargie. There’s still an hour and a half before the alarm sounds and honestly, I could use a bit more sleep.

But rest assured, even in slumber, I’m relatively certain my mind continues to think deep thoughts.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Its that time of year again for our annual sled dog race happening this weekend

January 28, 2014 – Tuesday

-24 degrees/windy/clear skies

Pentoga Road

I’m rather proud of myself. After checking the electric rate schedule yesterday afternoon, I discovered that our power company has come out with a new rate schedule. Peak hours (and the most expensive) are from 8 AM to 2 PM. Mid peak hours from 2 PM to 8 PM, and from 8 PM to 8 AM, the rates are about a fourth of those during the peak hours.

So, in a very scholarly fashion, I sharpened my pencil and began doing the calculations of how much it would cost to run a small 1500 watt ceramic heater through the night. It comes out to just a dollar. I placed the unit in the kitchen, the coldest part of the house. It was still cold last night, but the furnace never kicked on. I’m happy to spend a few extra dollars during this latest cold spell to keep the home fairly warm and not spend mega money on heating oil.

Monday was spent throwing logs on the fire… or wood in the stove. The living room attains a temperature in the mid 70’s once it warms up, sinks to the low 70’s in the evening hours, and dips into the 50’s during the night when the stove is banked and producing only “maintenance heat.”

Sargie and I don’t mind. I sleep with my electric blanket on low. She opts to turn hers off and cuddles on my side of the bed, assuming I’m happy to share the heat from my body. Yes, it’s true. Sargie’s a blanket/heat vampire. She looks innocent enough, but let a cold night/warm body combination occur in just the right fashion and she’ll steal any and all warmth.

I had all my papers read and grades entered Monday by mid morning. What to do? I brought the rowing machine from the basement and set it up in the dining room,  paddling myself exactly nowhere. After twenty very boring minutes, I gave up rowing and decided to keep on my regular schedule and go for a walk.

It was cold, but wasn’t brutal. In fact, I overdressed and found myself unzipping the top layers (I was wearing seven) to let some body heat escape.

I’m having trouble with cramps in the back of my thighs. I’m sure there’s a real name for those muscles, but I wish the cramps would go away. I stretch for several minutes a day, take plenty of magnesium, and drink gallons of liquids. I may have to call my buddy, Mandy Jo, a certified weight trainer, and see what her take is. The knee, though occasionally sore, is doing better. I think it’s a matter of training.

I carried in wood when I got home and called it a day. Though I’d been warm, once I stopped walking, cold settled in and I was happy to get into the shower and let a few gallons of steaming hot water pour the chills from my body.

Brutus is beginning to feel the effects of cabin fever. He wants to go outside to play, but after running around for a few minutes, the pup sits and begins to lift one paw, then another, and begs to come back inside. Yesterday, for the first time, he left me and sat on the back deck whining to come in. I opened the door for him, then went back to loading wood. It’s cold.

Sargie was home early last night bearing tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumbers. In a winter-be-damned fashion, I cooked pork loins at the stove and sliced those into strips atop a good old-fashioned, summer salad complete with whole almonds and topped with dilly beans that I had canned from the garden.

Sargie works early again today. I imagine mine will be a repeat of yesterday. With the temperature threatening to push even lower, I probably will stay inside for the morning and walk later. And Brutus? He’ll just have to contain all that big bulldog energy until his tender tootsies can tolerate the cold weather.

It’s time to end and fix Sargie’s sandwich for her noon meal. Yes, some things are still alive and well in the world, including packing a sandwich for her lunch. It’s kind of the Donna Reed thing… I stand by the door on her way out and hand her the lunch bag expecting a hug and kiss in return. It’s the least I can do.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

After rowing hard for twenty minutes and going nowhere, I decided to take my usual walk. This was the high for the day. I decided to seize the moment and go.

January 27, 2014 – Monday

-14 degrees/clear/windy

Pentoga Road

I was up twice during the night to put wood in the stove. Thankfully, that kept the downstairs warm and the furnace didn’t kick on. It doesn’t make for the best sleep patterns, but I had no problem snoozing off after returning to bed each time.

I’ve found that anticipating and arranging the hard wood before going to bed makes the task much easier. During the day, I burn all soft wood, mostly smaller pieces of popple. That works really well, but requires feeding the stove once an hour or so.

But the nighttime hours are a different story. It’s then I use hard maple, the best of the best. It burns long and gives off good heat. I get the maple from the woodshed during the afternoon hours, bring it in, then arrange it by size. Overnight, I need only to grab the exact pieces that fit in the stove, shut the door and damper, and head back to bed. It takes two minutes and seems to work.

What’s up with these propane and oil prices? I read one of the problems was that the corn was all harvested at about the same time this past year and there was an inordinate amount of propane that went to dry corn for storage. I don’t blame the farmers, but rather, the national distributors and those who manage the refineries.

I’ve heard of propane prices going over $7 a gallon and naturally, since those companies are gouging the consumer, the heating oil and natural gas people have decided to do the same.

I know of one case where a local young family has been forced to close their home and move in with relatives; and that seems to be a pattern for all over the Midwest and East Coast. I don’t know. I just keep throwing wood on the fire and try to remember to say my prayers of gratitude that Sargie and I, and our families, are warm and have full bellies.

After writing Sunday morning, I hoofed 5.52 miles, making a loop to the local lakes. As has been the case these days, there was no one fishing. It was a pretty desolate situation at both lakes.

Sargie and I did an abbreviated Sunday drive. It wasn’t a pretty day so we drove around just one lake then came back home.

I cleaned the drive and patio… again, for about the fourth day in a row. It seems an inch or two of snow falls nightly, the light stuff, that drifts each time the wind blows. I’ve a feeling some of the same snow has been moved more than once.

Sargie dusted furniture upstairs and down. I ran the vacuum. Later, papers were read, music listened to, and last night, we watched a bit of television.

Sargie and I are both ready for some warmer weather and longer days. I find myself fantasizing of a warmer season ahead, when Sargie arrives home from work and we walk up and down the rows in the garden, plucking vegetables and eating them on the spot. It’s those thoughts that help keep the winter’s darkness and cold at bay.

I haven’t made up my mind if I’ll walk this morning or not. It’s brutal out there, but then, I fancy myself a resilient kind of guy. We’ll see.

Until then, I think I’ll pour another cup of coffee, throw a lawg on the far, and think deep thoughts.

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

Somebody missed the road

I'm ready to head out on Saturday's five-mile hike

January 26, 2014 – Sunday

-2 degrees/calm/snow

Pentoga Road

I had Saturday’s log and part of today’s written when it suddenly disappeared. I’ve conducted a computer-wide search and have come to the conclusion that it was abducted by aliens. My writing is not on the desktop, in the document file, or anywhere else on the computer. I considered having a hissy fit, but that would only cause Brutus to think I needed him and then I’d have a huge bulldog trying to help. He occasionally pushes enough of my buttons, I don’t need his fat nose trying to push keys on the computer. Oh well, one more time…

Friday was the polar opposite of Thursday. I awakened determined that I’d not let another day go to waste. The day started with a five-mile walk. After Thursday’s bout of gluttony and sloth, the miles rolled under my boots.

Once home, I spent time on the phone with the Maine retirement system and got my retirement set up to begin in July. They are sending a packet of papers that need to be signed, but otherwise, that process should be completed.

A call to Social Security was made. Using multiple calculators, I learned that due to something called the Windfall Elimination Act, I’ll only receive about a third of what I’m due. It seems that if one works for a state (in my case, Maine and Alaska) that doesn’t contribute to Social Security, even though an individual has contributed and has enough quarters, he’s penalized substantially. It’s a typical Federal Government act… penalize the working man and give the rest away. No wonder unemployment is so high… there’s little incentive to work.

Saturday was a very cold and windy day. I started by talking with Matt and Emmie via video. We had a good cooing session. Emmie is the spitting image of Matt and there’s no denying her daddy. Matt and I also found time to talk big people talk and it was good to catch up.

Hmm, perhaps a photo shoot for Esquire in the offing? 

I also had a wonderful video session with Josh, Ellie, Wyatt, and Cody. All were in the backyard of their Old Saybrook, Connecticut, home playing in the snow. As much as I often long for the good old days, modern technology certainly allows me to keep in touch with, talk to, and see, my family. I like that. I like that very much.

I once again rode with Sargie partway to work and walked home. I was walking straight into a gusty 20 mph wind and later found the wind chill was well under -30.

The north wind had the flags sticking straight out

I tried wearing my Noatak beaver skin cap and a face covering, but honestly, both were entirely too heavy for such warm weather conditions.

I spent the rest of the day clearing the drive, working up wood, and later, came in the house to read and grade papers.

I’d set bread dough out to rise Friday night in preparation of baking it on Saturday. The bread tastes delicious, but honestly, the aroma is as good or better. A wood fire, the whiff of a fresh cup of coffee, and being surrounded by the aroma of baking bread on a cold winter day are all key ingredients to a feeling of contentment that words can't describe.

I managed to get the laundry washed, dried, and put away yesterday. Other than missing a sock, we’re good to go for a few more days. I’m relatively certain the same alien that stole my writing probably took off with my sock.

Sargie’s home today. She had to close the Vision Center Saturday night and didn’t pull into the garage until well past 9 PM. I doubt we’ll do too much earth shattering; probably take a drive into town this afternoon, but otherwise relax and enjoy each other’s company.

I’m going to get this uploaded before it disappears again then go for a walk. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Brutus's house is becoming more of a cave buried in the snow

January 24, 2014 – Friday

0 degrees/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

There’s really nothing to write about this morning.

Due to the cold and windy conditions, I skipped walking my five miles on Thursday morning. That was a mistake. Getting out of my regular regimen of activity set the stage to live like a sponge the rest of the day. The only thing that seemed awake was my appetite, only because the rest of me was so lethargic.

Oh, I graded a few papers, but mostly, I grazed in the kitchen, watched a B movie that was absolutely horrible… and this coming from a guy who actively seeks out B grade movies. I took a nap then dozed for another hour.

I did sneak into town to get the ice auger. Usually I can make half a day out of going to town if I want. Yooper Brother Mark had a dentist appointment and Ann had too much work to listen to me blather. I was soon headed back to Pentoga Road.

The wood box was almost empty. Oh Lord, I’d have to expend all that energy. Normally at my side and busting to go outdoors, Brutus wasn’t interested in any activities either. When I finally put on my coat, hat, and mittens, he remained lying by the stove with a look that told me I should go on ahead. He’d be happy to remain where he was and wait for me.

And so the day went. About the most energy that was summoned on Thursday was heating up a pan of beef soup for supper last night. It seemed stressful, but I managed.

I slept well last night and barely awakened at 3 AM to fill the stove with wood and it was difficult getting up this morning with Sargie. Yes, indeed, the dog days of winter are firmly in place.

Being inactive is not going to happen again today. I see the wind is gusting to 25 mph this morning, but I don’t care. The old Alaska Mountain Man is coming out of his self-imposed hibernation. I’ll be riding with Sargie partway to work and hike my usual five miles back. After, there will be papers to grade and phone calls to make. I will hike and remain active. Oh yes, by all that is holy, I’ll hike like the wind, if not into it.

But first, I might have to take a quick nap and dream the dreams of a spring that is promised to come…  of a beautiful garden, red ripe tomatoes… of humming birds humming, blue birds flitting, and bumble bees bumbling.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

My youngest granddaughter, Emmie, had her three-month birthday earlier this week.

January 23, 2014 – Thursday

-4/clear/windy 0- wind chill -24 degrees

Pentoga Road

It was the sound of the furnace running that awakened me this morning. I felt guilty as I’d slept the night through and had failed to get up at 3 AM to add wood to the stove. It was the thought of burning expensive fuel oil that drove me from between the sheets to get the fire started.

There’s not a lot to talk about these days. Brutus and I keep each other company during the day, but I think he’s finding me boring. The first part of the week signals the large influx of papers, all of which require my attention. The poor pup simply lies at my feet dozing, but should I move a muscle, he’s immediately up, hoping we’re going to do something that requires attention on his part.

On our way to Rhinelander

Sargie and I went to Rhinelander on Tuesday. It was a nice day for a road trip, but other than simply having fun, was fairly mundane. We purchased a new rug for the kitchen, actually a pack of three that were on clearance. The old one, bought in much the same manner, had seen far too many feet over the past two years and was literally, coming apart at the seams. This one adds some color to the room and we both like it.

I fought a pounding headache most of Wednesday. Migraine tablets didn’t help and in desperation, I finally took a couple of Sargie’s allergy pills. Those did the trick. By evening’s end, the pounding in my head subsided. If I get another today, I’ll start with the allergy pills and see what happens.

Five miles were walked yesterday morning. Although walking isn’t done very enthusiastically, I think it’s important to keep active. It’s difficult to summon picturesque scenes of the Appalachian Trail while walking in zero degree temperatures facing a 20 mph wind and often wading through deep snow when meeting a logging truck. Still, if I didn’t continue to do so, what exercise would I get during these dark days of deep winter? None.

We met a large truck while coming home from Rhinelander that managed to heave a large boulder at our windshield. Sargie was driving and she thought she was a goner. So did I. I'll be calling the insurance company. 

While outside yesterday, I took the opportunity to brush Brutus. I don’t know where all his hair comes from, but in the end, there was enough removed to fill a grocery bag. As long as he’s thoroughly brushed once every few days, he sheds little inside.

The woodpile is quickly shrinking. I’m down to where I was last year when maple season began, about six weeks from now. Thankfully, I got extra wood last fall and covered it with a large tarp. We’re in good shape, but this has been quite the heating the season. I feel sorry for those who burn only oil or propane. They have to feel this long period of very cold weather in their pocketbooks.

The biggest potential catastrophe on Pentoga Road is that we’re down to our last tennis ball with which to play fetch with Brutus. The others are buried around the yard or on the roof of the house and barn well under the snow. All I know for sure is that come spring, there are going to be bushels of tennis balls suddenly appear.

We bought a package of twelve doggie balls at Menards on Wednesday, but with Brutus’s strong jaws, he quickly destroyed the first… within a minute or two. I’ll take the rest back for a refund.

Sargie had to close on Wednesday and wasn’t home until 9 PM. She opens today so we should have an evening together. I think we’ll have leftover beef soup and dumplings for supper. Sounds good, even in these early morning hours.

We finished watching the miniseries, Klondike, on the Discovery Channel. I thoroughly enjoyed it and in some ways, it reminded me of the old Lonesome Dove series that was on many years ago. I didn’t realize until the end that the characters were based on actual people. The only one I actually recognized was Soapy Smith who I teach about in Alaska Studies. He was a real character who delighted in emptying everyone’s pockets.

With the heavy part of the reading finished for the week, I’ll work on the file cabinets today. The Maine Retirement System and Social Security need to be called and Larry the fix-it man left a message saying the ice auger is repaired.

But first, it’s time for another cup of coffee and get this uploaded. After all, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Ever feel like you're being watched? While on my walk, I saw a bit of movement so I started taking random pictures into the woods. After unloading them, I discovered it was this guy who had been observing me.

January 21, 2014 – Tuesday

-9 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

I wish the wood stove would get hot. Right now, there’s a happy fire crackling away; as we call it, a Charlie Brown fire. It’s pretty, decorative, but gives off little heat. I want a mean fire, one that roars and quickly warms the house. I should have had the butler start the fire earlier this morning when he arrived for the day. Right now, it’s 51 in the house and I’m having to periodically stop writing to rub my fingers together. Sargie’s off today and will stay in bed until the house warms enough that she can comfortably take a shower.

Burn baby burn!

The weekly onslaught of students’ papers continue to digitally appear in my email's inbox. If these were salmon swimming upstream, I’d predict a very good seasonal spawn. I’ve spent much of the past two days in the cycle of reading, assessing, and commenting, stopping to do some other activity, then reading, assessing, and commenting again. So far, so good. I’m keeping abreast of the activity.

Sunday was spent much in the same manner and listening to the NFL playoff games. I’m going to pull for the Broncos in the Super Bowl; if for no other reason than I like Payton Manning. Next to Brett Favre, he’s an all time great and unlike Brett, he’s modest. I’ve always liked Seattle, but that outbreak in a post game interview by one of their players tilted my who-do-I-like scales in favor of Denver.

I walked the usual five miles Monday morning. Returning home and beginning the task of reading papers,  I found my coffee cup was empty and sat the computer on the floor so I might go to the kitchen for a refill. When I returned, I found Brutus had laid his Volkswagen-sized head on the keyboard, using it as a warm pillow. The machine gets quite warm, so much so, that an insulated board sits between it and my lap when using it for any length of time.

It was warm and certainly as soft as the floor, so why not use it as a pillow? I pried the computer from under the dog’s head with the admonishment to never do that again… I’m sure… until the next time my back is turned.

Who? Me?

I took my ice auger into town on Monday morning to the local small engine fix-it man, Larry. I’d talked to Yooper Brother Mark earlier about taking it elsewhere and Mark had suggested I visit Larry in Caspian. I’m glad I did. We talked a bit and I found he has a married granddaughter who lives in Anchorage. Ten years my senior, Larry says he ought to retire someday, but he said that he likes what he’s doing and is going to continue as long as he can. I mentally placed Larry on my list of good guys.

I attempted to fix the starter rope on the auger, but decided to let someone else have the pleasure. Sargie loves when I put the ice auger on the kitchen counter. It's there to let any ice thaw and drip into the sink.

I stopped at the plant to wish Yooper Brother Mark and Ann a happy Martin Luther King Day. I figure any national holiday deserves well wishes to all.

One of yesterday’s chores was to call ATT to find out about a rate reduction for our home phone plan. I was going to have it disconnected a few weeks ago and continue service with Verizon, but at the time, when I called ATT, they said they could match Verizon… then the line went dead. I called yesterday to see if indeed, they would. They did.

I’m assuming that the cellular plans are cutting into the land line business and desperate to keep what customers they have, ATT will negotiate. It’s about time. Seems I’ve paid a monthly bill to them for the past forty years.

It’s time to begin the process of contacting the Maine Teacher Retirement System and Social Security to secure the other half of my pension. Since I turn 62 in June, both should begin in July. If they are anything like Alaska, it will take them six months to get the wheels in motion. I waded into our two-drawer filing cabinet and finally found the papers I needed with the correct phone numbers.

My first call was to Maine. Oh, of course, it was a holiday, Martin Luther King Day. Plans for beginning the process were delayed.

A two-drawer file cabinet was adequate when I lived by myself. One drawer contained tax and retirement information; another important papers that are deemed too valuable to be lost. When Sargie joined me, she brought her important papers and suddenly two drawers were woefully inadequate.

While in town, I stopped at one of our second hand stores and found a nice two-drawer cabinet for $10. I’ll begin sorting who’s who and what’s what tomorrow when Sargie returns back to work. We’ll keep one in the basement with papers that are important, but seldom needed. The other will remain by the desk in our bedroom.

Sargie called last night saying she was on her way home. The call began a series of  nightly routines. First, I put away anything that has been carelessly placed during the day, usually my boots, winter coat, cap, and gloves. What few dishes that might be in the sink are washed and dried, and finally, I swipe the tops of the furniture in the living room with a dust rag to remove any ashes that might have settled during the past twenty-four hours and lastly, I run the vacuum over the carpet and sweep the laminate floors.

I was finishing vacuuming the living room floor when I heard a “POOF” and dust flew everywhere. I’d seen something shiny fly from the sweeper, but was more concerned with the dust. The bag in the vacuum had gotten too full and burst.

It’s amazing what one picks up with a sweeper… there was one of my favorite pens I’d been missing along with a few large pieces of bark and some chips of wood. And lying at my feet was Sargie’s beautiful chain on which a cross hangs that she always wears around her neck. 

When Sargie arrived home last night, obviously upset, she'd discovered the necklace missing during the day and asked if I might have found it. I told her the story of how it found me.

God is still alive and well on Pentoga Road.

Sargie’s off today and we’re going to head to the south and west to visit the big city of Rhinelander, Wisconsin. They have a JC Pennys, a Kohls Department Store, and best of all, a Menards Lumber Yard. There’s really nothing we need (versus what we'd like!) and since it’s just before payday, my check book dictates all I do is window shop, but that’s okay. I’ll look at goodies I’d love to buy, dream, and for a few minutes, it will be summer between my ears and I’ll be in the middle of a gajillion projects.

But first, it’s time to refill the coffee cup and try to play catch up on the assignments that have arrived via email overnight.

As we all know, a man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

The true definition of "winter apples." Think they're ripe yet?

January 19, 2014 – Sunday

24 degrees/calm/cloudy

Pentoga Road

My longtime friend, Eileen, from Maine, sent a link to a video clip in which her husband, a former fellow teacher and also a good friend, Bert, “Uncle Bert” is shown on a local television station's news clip. Uncle Bert retired as a middle school French teacher years ago and has been a bailiff in the Bangor, Maine, court system for a number of years. 

And why do I call him Uncle Bert? Because his niece, Jenny, who was also a fellow teacher and good friend, always called him Uncle Bert… so I did the same and it has stuck.. for the past twenty-five to thirty years.

Usually Uncle Bert wears a uniform and looks like a cross between John Wayne and Chuck Norris, but in this clip, he’s dressed in a dark suit and wearing an earpiece.

My imagination has kicked into high gear and I’m imagining a new line of action figures. There could be a Chuck Norris Uncle Bert, a John Wayne Uncle Bert, and now the newest, FBI Uncle Bert. 

Uncle Bert, Action Hero, on the right

Hey, it was worth a try.

Page Two

Saturday was a sunny and calm, yet cool, day. I went fishing for a couple of hours with the same results that I’ve had on earlier excursions. I had no hits, no runs, no errors and not one fish was left on base. There was no action.

I did get a lot of fresh air on a picture perfect day. In fact, I didn’t even assemble the Clam fishing shelter. Sitting outside, jigging, and watching the tip ups was perfectly fine.

The only fish I saw were the minnows in the bucket

The engine on the ice auger had just started for the last hole when the rewind on the auger decided to break. That'll be one of this week's projects.

I arrived home shortly after noon. Sargie and I took off for town, did our errands, than spent the next couple of hours driving around the area’s lakes and by the local ski hill; mostly commenting on the amount of snow that has accumulated this winter.

People going up on the chair lift, a couple of snow boarders zooming down the hill underneath, and a beginning ski instruction class in the foreground. It was a busy place.

I remain amazed at the lack of ice fishing activity. Usually, this time of the year, most lakes are covered with shanties, trucks on the ice, and fishermen sitting on overturned five-gallon buckets making a lure dance near the bottom far below.

We arrived home and decided to watch a movie. I found one, Jack Reacher, on Netflix and we spent the next two hours thoroughly enjoying the action-packed flick. I can’t say I’m a huge fan of Cruise’s personal life or religion, but I like his acting.

Last night was a quiet one spent with the television playing in the background. I’m not sure either of us actually watched the thing, but it provided background noise. I wouldn’t mind getting rid of the satellite television. There’s so little worth watching.

Sargie works from noon to five today. I’m going to ride with her partway and walk back. Assignments are beginning to pour in as they are due on Monday and I’ll grade as many as possible this afternoon and tonight. My inbox will be flooded in the morning and the weekly cycle will begin again.

There are NFL playoff games to listen to later today, coffee to sip, and as always, deep thoughts to think… such as how to develop the Uncle Bert line of action figures.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

On my way to Leo and Theresa's on Friday afternoon

January 18, 2014 – Saturday morning

5 degrees/cloudy/calm

Pentoga Road

Well… darn, I was going to get out of bed early this morning and be on the lake shortly after sunrise. That didn’t happen.

It’s all Sargie’s fault. She had to get out of bed for a few minutes and asked that I remain so we could snuggle upon her return and she’d be able to rid herself of the chills. Being a kind and sensitive guy, I agreed, but somehow, dozed off while waiting. She slipped back into bed and I remember thinking I ought to get up, but it was so dark and cold on the outside, so nice and warm between the flannel sheets. Sargie spooned herself against me, grabbed one of my arms, pulled it over her, and held it tightly. The last thing I remember was thinking how I really should get up and begin today’s quest to put meat on the table… before dozing back off to sleep. The rest is history.

Sargie’s off today and hopefully can sleep in. I’ll write this, sip a bit more coffee, then make my way over to the lake.

Yesterday was a good one, on and off of Pentoga Road. As is becoming the habit, I rode with Sargie five miles down the road and hiked back. There was an occasional twinge in the knee, but nothing bad. I later took an ibuprofen to keep any potential swelling at bay.

I’d seen an add on Craigslist for someone who had some maple spouts and tubing for sale. Being a syrup purist at heart, I’ve never considered using tubes to combine the flow of sap from several trees, but after last year’s record flow and spending six to eight hours a day carrying sap through knee deep snow, I’ve though it might be time to modernize just a bit. Many of the spiles (spouts) I use were manufactured during the Civil War era.  

The listing was local, Iron River, so I called and left a message.

It was too nice a day to sit inside. Fishing? Why not. But first, I needed minnows. Neighbor Mike and I had just enough action the other day to whet my appetite. I threw the minnow pail in the Blazer and headed to Gloria’s for bait.

The phone rang. It was Leo, the maple man, inviting me to his house to see what he had for sale. The only issue was that Leo lived about twenty minutes on the other side of Iron River, way out in the boonies. It was a nice day. Not a problem.

Armed with perfect directions, but less than perfect eyesight, I turned left and drove seven miles, then turned right until there was a T in the road, left again for 2.3 miles, then right for a 1.5 miles, then into a private lane for another mile or so.

It was up a hill, around a curve, into a vale, squeezing between two snow banks, around another curve, over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go…. Or was it Bubba’s?

Imagination can be a horrible thing. Over all the thousands of miles I’ve traveled in bush Alaska, always alone, I’ve run into some real characters. Most have lived in very remote areas at the end of some very remote roads.

Leo sounded like a nice guy on the phone. He talked in full sentences and conjugated verbs. Still, I couldn’t help but picture a ramshackle trailer house wrapped in plastic and slightly tilted to one side sitting at the end of the road. There’d be junk cars, a still to make moonshine, and after getting out of the Blazer, I’d be surrounded by barking pitbulls, all covered in the blood of poached deer taken from the surrounding forest. Where was Brutus? Oh yeah, I left him home.

I subconsciously began humming the theme from Deliverance and my biggest fear was that Leo would be a heavy guy wearing bib overalls, with a week’s growth of beard, missing several teeth in front, and begin introducing himself by telling me I had a purty mouth.

I rounded the last curve and my fears vanished. Before me was a beautiful home and compound perched on a hill overlooking the Paint River. Leo, all teeth intact with looks and demeanor to match his voice, came out the door, greeted me, and didn’t say one word about my mouth. I was soon introduced to his wife, Theresa, and they told me to sit at the table and have a cup of coffee.

The folks are retired and living the dream. I heard how their home was once a hunting camp and with Leo and Theresa doing most the work, basically built a shell around and over it, destroyed the old camp within, and went about building a new home. It’s a beauty.

They also constructed a garden-sized greenhouse, a guest home, several outbuildings, generate their own power, and basically, live the same lifestyle that Sargie and I do… enjoying the north woods with a great amount of solitude and beauty.

Leo has the goodies… a bulldozer, a backhoe, another tractor, and a partridge in a pear tree. I want to be like Leo when I grow up.

Theresa and I talked gardening and greenhouses, of blackberries and blueberries, techniques of growing, failures and successes.

Another cup of coffee? Sure, why not.

I told them of my modest maple sugaring operation; they talked of theirs… at one time, ten times larger than mine. Leo explained about plastic spouts and tubes, techniques, how I might modernize a bit.

In the end, I gave him a $20 bill and asked that he sell me whatever that might purchase. Leo was very kind… he sold me enough spiles and connectors that I can convert seventy trees to a more modern collection system. He also threw in lots of tubing and a couple of boxes of syrup tins and bottles.

More than two hours had passed before I left the nice folks who live on the banks of the Paint River. I talked to Leo about hiring him to make some trails and do some earth moving here on Pentoga Road. Theresa would like some black raspberry starts, something I have plenty of and we all agreed it would be fun for the four of us to meet socially.

It’s said that God gives us exactly what we need when we need it. Yep, Friday afternoon was a good one.

I stopped at Gloria’s on my way back and bought minnows and was home before dark so I could carry in wood and exercise Brutus. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent doing university work while listening to music.

Poor Sargie didn’t arrive home until well after 9. The doctor had seen many patients on Friday and they were busy in the Vision Center.

I’m going to get this uploaded, dress in my heavies, and make my way to the lake and see if I can break this horrible streak of catching no fish. Last year, I was giving filets away. This year, I can’t seem to get enough for a decent fish fry for Sargie and me. Patience, Tom, patience.

According to Carl the Weatherman, this is our last warm day for the next ten. Temperatures are to drop well below zero with highs in the low single numbers accompanied by gusty winds. He said that by next weekend, we could see a return to bitterly cold temperatures with lows in the minus twenties and thirties.

Sargie’s off today, so no doubt, we’ll take a ride later, maybe do a bit of shopping.

But first, it’s time to pour another cup of coffee, listen to the news, and think deep and professorial thoughts… before traveling to the lake in an attempt to put meat on the table.

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