Coleman and Abigail before getting on the school bus

October 8, 2014 - Wednesday

48 degrees/clear/calm

North Waterboro, Maine

It was difficult leaving Sargie Tuesday morning. We not only love each other very much, we're also best of friends. It's not unusual for one to finish the other's sentence and it seems one knows what the other's thinking before it's said out loud. She often serves as my eyes, my chauffeur, and my right-hand girl, but no matter what we're doing together, we usually end up laughing. I've only been away for thirty-six hours, but I already miss her.

Sargie took some time before work on Tuesday morning to hang the wonderful fall wreath that sister, Jeanne, gave her as a gift. It looks beautiful hanging by our front door. Thanks, Jeanne!

My plane touched down in Portland, Maine, half an hour early Tuesday evening. 

In fact, all my flights, from Iron Mountain to Minneapolis, onto LaGuardia Airport in New York City, and finally to Portland, were either on time or early. It was an air traveler's dream come true.

Minneapolis, Minnesota, with the Mississippi River in the foreground.

Luke was at the airport to pick me up and we were soon headed home. Melinda and the grandchildren were long asleep when we arrived, but Luke and I sat up past midnight talking and catching up.

We saw the kiddies off to school this morning. Melinda's suffering from a cold and stayed home from her job as a pediatric nurse to recover; also so she wouldn't spread her germs elsewhere.

Coleman and his best buddy, Willem.

Luke and I spent the day bumming around this part of Maine, often close to the White Mountains by the New Hampshire border. The fall colors are beginning to peak and it was perfect weather.

Luke

Brownfield Bog. 

This was too good to miss taking a picture. Why have a lift when one can drive a car skyward to work on it.

Luke has been thinking about getting a few meat rabbits and has been gathering the equipment for the past several weeks. We began this morning stopping by a rabbitry, but discovering the owner wouldn't be home until later in the day, we continued meandering around western Maine.

One place we landed was a cemetery. Luke lost a friend several weeks ago and wanted to check the flowers on his grave. While there, we began looking at various tombstones.

 

This lady was born in 1773

The Major was born in 1770. He was a decorated veteran and Luke and I calculated he would have fought in the War of 1812.

The Major's contribution to our country is still noted and celebrated.

The owner of the rabbitry arrived home during the afternoon. We stopped and received a two-hour lesson on breeds of rabbits, the sex lives of rabbits, diseases, equipment, and about any other rabbit-related subject one can think of. It was all very interesting and in the end, we walked away with three new bunnies, a buck and two does.

This is one contented bunny rabbit

Rabbit Man also had a couple of active bee hives that made me extremely jealous.

Luke had brought only one cage large enough for the two females. I carried Kevin (the buck) home on my lap. By the time we arrived, he and I had thoroughly bonded.

Back at home, Luke is feeding Ivy some Timothy hay

Luke already had the chicken coop. He built an addition underneath where Kevin, Sarah, and Ivy now reside. Of course, the addition of three bunny rabbits attracted the neighborhood kiddies.

Luke topped off a near-perfect day by fixing a perfect supper tonight, steaks from the moose Melinda shot last fall and poutine, (pronounced putz in) a uniquely French concoction of French fries topped by mozzarella cheese, smothered in either beef or turkey gravy. No calories there. 

So the kiddies are in bed and we big people are enjoying a quiet evening.

Luke has to work tomorrow, Melinda may or may not go to work, depending on how she feels. Either way, I'm going spend the day reading assignments and catching up on my Alaska Studies course.

It's getting late in the evening and time for this grandpa to think about heading to bed. After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road by way of Waterboro, Maine.

After doing a head count of his hens, Luke discovered one was missing. He eventually found it after dark roosting on the roof of the chicken coop.