Winter is beginning to lose its grip on a large beaver dam

March 18, 2015 - Wednesday
25 degrees/clear/calm
Pentoga Road

This very early morning business needs to cease. I awakened at 2:30 AM, heeded nature's call, then returned to bed, but not to sleep. 

After a few hours of sleep, my mind is capable of going into overdrive, finding some obscure thought then obsessing on it. This morning's beginning thought: how much wood should I work up this summer to provide heat for next winter?

I mean, really... the current winter's not over yet and I probably have enough firewood for next year, possibly the year after, yet my mind refused to rest. 

Thinking of firewood led to wondering whether I should call and have heating oil delivered this spring or wait until the summer months and from there to pondering the price of gasoline which made me think of going over to Iron Mountain this morning to get the Blazer and we certainly don't want to forget to include the box of newspapers to take to the recycling place... and my mind rambled on and on and on and on and on.  

I rolled over and rubbed Sargie's back while playing with her hair and listened to her soft breathing accompanied by Brutus's not-so-subtle snores from the other side of the room. The oversized pup would occasionally yip, all four legs running through the nighttime air, chasing some unseen critter through his own field of dreams. 

Counting sheep, that's it. I started at a hundred and intended to count backwards when I remembered I should recite my morning prayers, but before I was through with those, it occurred to me that we need to purchase dog food while in Green Bay tomorrow... and speaking of Green Bay, the Packers really need to draft an inside linebacker. 

Enough. I finally gave up on any thoughts of sleeping. It might only be 3 AM, but it was time to get up for the day. If my mind had that much energy, perhaps my body would follow suit. 

Tuesday was a productive day. After hiking my usual early morning five-miles, I returned home to a big bowl of Sargie's oatmeal whose recipe came by way of sister-in-law, Nancy. Sargie had prepared it Sunday morning and there was a bowl left over. With a bit of water added and a tour through the microwave oven, it was ready. 

The recipe? Sargie said there was everything from vanilla and peanut butter to raisins and maple syrup. The bowl contained oatmeal perfection.

While waiting for it to heat, I thought of the gruel I used to make while living in the Arctic Circle. I'd whip up a huge batch, enough for six or eight people. With fistful's of raisins and scoops of brown sugar, I'd eat what I wanted then pour the rest into a bread pan to set up overnight. 

It was sliced the next morning and fried in butter with each portion drowned in homemade brown sugar syrup. Better oatmeal has never been tasted; well, at least in northern Alaska. 

I returned to the barn Tuesday morning and continued assembling the workbench. Two hours later, it was finished. The process was more difficult than usual due to the cold temperatures, well below freezing. Working without gloves made for numb fingers and that caused me to drop small nuts and bolts... which caused me to say all those words that Mom would have washed my mouth out for uttering, had she been within hearing distance. 

But finally, after starting the small propane heater and periodically warming my hands, the last nut was fastened and I could cross that job off my list. 



The red pine squirrels, those half-sized bushy-tailed rats, have come out of their winter stupor by the billions. I took the time to set and bait my token squirrel trap and there's little doubt that the first rodent of the year will soon be caught. I trapped well over twenty last summer. For those who are clicking their tongues, try ridding your house or garage of red pine squirrels once they have chewed a hole under the roof and decided to move in. The battle wages on.

Brutus likes to scratch his bed, much like one fluffs a pillow before going to sleep.Unfortunately, in doing so the other day, he made a huge hole. I spent well over an hour Tuesday afternoon stitching it closed with heavy monofilament fishing line. 

I called Sargie's accountant yesterday and made arrangements to drop off my tax information later today. I've had H&R Block do my taxes in the past, but each year, it's gotten progressively more expensive. 

Last year, I received a small refund. Hopefully, it will be the same this year, although I'm fearful I may owe some state income tax. We have a governor who claims to be a fiscal conservative, but can tax and spend with the best of them. In fact, every time I open the newspaper, it seems he's proposing a new tax, the latest, an increase on gasoline. When I purchased this property, there was no state tax on retirement income, one of the reasons I bought in the Upper Peninsula. That changed with this present governor a few years ago. Needless to say, he's not my most favorite politician.

I rummaged through the file cabinet yesterday in search of this year's W4's and anything else that looked as though it might help my cause. It's currently in a big envelope, labeled, and ready to go.

I drove to Iron Mountain late Tuesday afternoon and purchased enough lumber to build three more strawberry pyramids. I figure as long as the blades are set on the saws and the barn is a mess, I might as well do all the cutting and building at one time. After filling the Blazer with gas (down to $2.25 a gallon yesterday) I parked the SUV for the night and waited for Sargie to finish with work. We rode home together after a stop for Cokes-to-go. 

Sargie works early this morning and I'll be riding with her to retrieve the Blazer and run a few errands. Though it was cold yesterday, the sap still ran and I need to empty the bags. After, I'll unload the lumber and begin cutting out the pieces for the planters. The weather promises to be warmer and sunny; a good day to work.

Sargie and I will be heading to Green Bay early Thursday morning where we'll do a bit of shopping before purchasing the new trailer. It's going to be a busy next couple of days.

But then, am I surprised? After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...