Happy Fourth of July!
Naw, these are simply sparks caused by cutting rebar on Saturday.

April 19, 2015 - Sunday morning

38 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

What a joy! My MacBook Pro computer arrived in yesterday's mail. It's working perfectly and is so fast that I'm thinking I may have to install seat belts on my recliner. Best of all, it's back to understanding my verbal commands, and the voice of Karen, the Australian girl who lives somewhere deep inside the machine's hard drive, is back, reading to me. Thanks for all your hard work, Vince. You're the best.

I'm a bit "down in the back" this morning. Not normally one to complain, I occasionally suffer from a bout of arthritis in the area where I broke my back years ago in the arctic. After a full day of physical activity on Saturday, the back is telling me to lay off the heavy labor for a day or two. I think I'll listen... plus, it's supposed to rain later; a perfect excuse to be lazy.

I picked 'em up and laid 'em down on Saturday. For a day where the weather was to decline, it was perfect, sunny and warm, yet cool enough to keep from sweating. 

The geese were flying over by the millions, literally. One flock followed another and it was a continual parade of honking all morning.

At one time, it was so loud that I noticed the sound blocked out the radio that was softly playing in the background.

I started the day by ripping out the old, rotten, timbers that made up the old strawberry bed. They were in bad shape when I first purchased the place and had gotten worse over the past several years. I used the tines on the bucket to lift each out of the ground, then transported them to the burn pile.

Next came digging more dirt needed for fill.

Initially, I tried utilizing the little two-wheeled wagon, but that was like trying to fill a large glass jar with a tea spoon. Normally, I'd have used the trailer, but it's parked at the plant waiting to be filled with wood. I decided to go with Plan B, attaching a piece of plywood across the tines of the bucket on the front end loader and carrying dirt that way. It worked like a charm and only took seven loads.

The most difficult job was to prepare the parameter where the landscape timbers were to be placed so they'd be level with the foundation of the barn.

Of course, Brutus was right there to help me every step of the way. I wish I could teach him how to read a level or a tape measure. I had my nose right down trying to read the level. The next thing I knew, he pushed my head out of the way so he could have a good look.

He's leading me up the trail towards the house as he always does.
When I'm in the woods, all I have to say is, "Home, Brutus," and he'll lead me back to the house, but there are times when he could be a bit less helpful.

I know Brutus is trained to be my constant companion and keep me from getting turned around when in the woods, but there are some times his bushel basket-sized head gets in the way.

The pooch got so tired trying to help that he decided to take a nap. Unfortunately, that was right where I was working. I dug around and under his head and he never moved. 

I took a break and went to town to purchase gas for the tractor and backhoe, also pole barn nails with which to fasten the landscape timbers.  While there, I stopped and gabbed with Yooper Brother Mark for a bit. He was taking advantage of the day by cleaning his garage. I'm glad he's in good practice. Maybe I can get him to clean mine.

Back home again, I cut rebar into two foot lengths, drilled holes in the bottom timbers, and fastened them solidly to the ground.

On those bottom timbers were nailed the second layer, all interlocking at the corners.

I learned one thing yesterday. NEVER give a hammer to a man who has macular degeneration. I took a gajillion swings at those pole barn nails, often missing altogether, resulting in way too many hammer marks on the landscape timbers. Oh well, a hundred years from now, who's going to know?

My back hurting from continually bending over low to see the nails, I decided to sit cross legged while pounding and even managed to miss a nail and hit my ankle. Now that takes some real talent. Mom would have definitely washed my mouth out with soap had she been within earshot.

But in the end, the terrace was made. Four piles of dirt are all that remain to be raked and shoveled, then the surface will be prepared and the pyramids moved to their permanent places. We're not certain if we'll use cobblestones on the surface, perhaps wood chips, even gravel. 

Sargie was home early last night bearing a family-sized pizza. We had a quiet evening and I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

Sargie's off today and with less than perfect weather predicted, I imagine we'll take our weekly ride later this afternoon and relax. I did a couple of loads of laundry during the day yesterday so we're caught up, but there's the house to attend to. I know Sargie will want to dust which means I'll be the vacuum and sweeper boy, and that's okay.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...