Tales from Pentoga

Neighbor Mike is watching the line spin off a tip up.

January 17, 2014 – Friday

14 degrees/cloudy/snow/breezy

Pentoga Road

Ouch! I just finished digging a sliver from my right index finger. While filling the stove in the middle of the night, it felt as though I’d driven a tree trunk under the skin. It was too much effort to remove at three in the morning so I simply went back to bed and fell asleep.

But, oh, how I was quickly reminded this morning. It was dark and I was just pulling a shirt over my head when the sliver was driven deeper into my finger. I gingerly finished dressing and came downstairs to prepare for surgery.

Tweezers? Check. Needle? Check. Nail clippers? Check. Pocketknife? Check. Magnifiers? Check. Front Teeth? (To try when the tweezers fail.) Check. I had all the necessary surgical tools with which to perform major surgery.

I’ll live another day. The log that had impaled itself in my finger has been removed and thrown into the fire where it should have landed at three this morning.

Page Two

Oh yeah... the Slice O Matic I mentioned in yesterday's log. I can taste the bread and butter pickles now.

The knee worked much better Thursday as I rode with Sargie five miles down the road then walked back. For whatever reason, there was no pain during or after. Now if I can just keep from twisting the darn thing until it gets stronger… hiking stronger… not every day-use stronger. I’ve started doing some stretching and mobility exercises.

I worked the rest of the morning reading assignments. All went well and I think this is going to be yet another great bunch of students. Many are student teachers, there are several experienced educators earning Alaska certification, and a few who are undergrad future teachers. So far/so good.

It was almost noon when I went outside to plow the drive. Finishing, I plowed up to Neighbor Mike’s where we talked a bit and decided to go fishing.

We went to a different lake than I usually fish and for a while, I thought that finally, our dry streak was finished. With Mike behind the wheel of the Blazer, we drove over half a mile out onto the ice and reading the shoreline, picked a random place that seemed as though fish should be swimming underneath.

We set out three tip ups and then began jigging. Mike lowered his jig through the hole and it kept on going. He fought a nice fish until it got off. A flag went up… the spool on the tip up twirled as a monster ran with the minnow. I let it run, then slowly picked up the tip up, reeled in the slack, and set the hook. The fight was on… for a few seconds until the large fish broke the line.

We had nonstop action for all of ten minutes, then we never had another hit or bite for the next two hours. The pattern of horrible fishing continues.

Mike makes jam… really good jam. I traded him a quart jar of pure, clear, number-one, Grade A, maple syrup for two pint jars of to-die-for jam; one wild blackberry and raspberry, the other New Haven peach jam. He claims my maple syrup with its light smoky flavor is the best he’s ever tasted. I say the same about his jam. It doesn’t get much better than when two old retired school teachers get together and have nothing better to do than trade recipes and sweets in the middle of a cold, January, day.

Sargie was home early last night. I fixed stuffed baked potatoes for supper. Toppings were shrimp, bacon, butter, sour cream, and any other nutritious, low calorie food group I could think of. I really wished I could have cut some fresh chives, put they are shriveled and buried under feet of snow alongside the barn. Next year, I have to remember to cut and dry some for winter’s use.

Sargie closes tonight which means an extra long day. I’m going to ride with her five miles down the road and walk back. After, there’ll be papers to read, seed catalogues from which to order, and coffee to sip.