Sunday, April 12, 2015


Tis the season to hang sheets on the line
April 12, 2015 - Sunday
43 degrees/clear/calm
Pentoga Road

Going to bed was special last night. It was the first time all year that we slumbered between freshly laundered sheets that had hung out on the line all day.

They felt so good and I really didn't know what to do with all that freshness. When I was a little boy and Mom had just put sheets, fresh off the line on my bed, I'd thrash back and forth, giggling and singing, enjoying the way they smelled and felt.

I really didn't want to do that last night as Sargie gets a bit testy when I pull the sheets from the bed, but... 

With just a bit of controlled thrashing, in rhythm of course, I began to sing:

Who put the bomp
In the bomp bah bomp bah bomp?
Who put the ram
In the rama lama ding dong?

I was really getting into it, closing my eyes, singing and snapping my fingers. Why, I could be Danny, Sargie, Sandy, and we could reenact the musical Grease all over again, right then, right there. I have two degrees in music and know good, quality, music when I hear it. I'd prove that all that good money Mom and Dad spent to help finance my education didn't go to waste.

Oh baby, I was feelin' it! Watch out, Sargie Pants, I'm a musical machine!!

Who put the bop
In the bop shoo bop shoo bop?
Who put the dip
in the dip da dip da dip?

Yeah, well...

The last I heard from Sargie, she'd turned over and asked if I could scratch a spot between her shoulder blades before turning on the television. 

Don't blame me, blame the sheets that hung on the line all day. And let's face it, some people simply don't appreciate fine music.

It sure is nice sitting here, listening to the birds sing on the other side of the windows this early morning. We've had a winter where all I heard was the occasional chickadee and only then if he was hungry and begging me to reach into my pocket to pull out a handful of sunflower seeds. 

I'm beginning to hear the white-breasted sparrow quite often and my favorite, the occasional finch... or as Dad always called them, the yellow canary. Of course the robins are back and I believe I heard a bluebird yesterday.

Speaking of bluebirds, I finally remembered to put up the bluebird house that's been hanging in the barn. I'm not sure it's high or remote enough, but I'd like to have it close so that I can see any activity. If the house remains vacant this spring, I'll move it high up into a tree next year.

After completing my walk on Saturday, I moved inside to grade a few papers. It's a busy time in the world of academics, especially for those earning graduate degrees, who hope to finish at the end of this month.

It didn't take me long to get back outside and into the shop. I worked all afternoon in the barn with occasional breaks sitting outside in the sun. 



While relaxing, Brutus would saunter up and drop his ball in my lap, hoping I'd throw it for him. No one died from stress around here yesterday, certainly not the bulldog or me.



The barn and shop are more than half finished and I finally figured out what to do with one back corner where my work benches are located. It will all have to come out when I build the walls for the new shop, but should be much easier with everything cleaned and rearranged. 



I began assembling the large lawn sweeper late in the afternoon. It's quite heavy and the instructions are in pictures only. I guess that's better than having them written in Chinese, but it's a challenge. 



Thankfully, there's a big color picture on the box that tells me more than the instructions.




Sargie was home early last night. I took a quick shower and we drove into town for supper. My choice was a big ol' fat Rubin sandwich. Sargie had a blue cheese burger and we split a platter of fries. Needless to say, I haven't lost much of my winter weight.



Sargie's off today. We talked yesterday about enjoying the sunshine and warm temperatures as the forecast high is for 70 degrees and no doubt, we'll take our usual Sunday afternoon ride.

I'm going to wash and put awy all the maple barrels and buckets this morning, plus disassemble the boiler for another year. 

Okay, time to pour a cup of coffee and think this morning's deep thought, which is... who really did put the bomp
In the bomp bah bomp bah bomp?
And who put the ram
In the rama lama ding dong? 

It's one of life's never-ending mysteries, but I'll get it figured out sooner or later.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

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