Isabella, Sheri, and Sarah, at the Green Bay Airport on Friday afternoon

July 11, 2015 - Saturday morning

62 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

Friday was a busy, but fun one, on and off of Pentoga Road. I began the day working in the garden. The potato pots needed leaves filled in around the plants. Since I intended to clean out the area on the north side of the barn, I simply raked those into a pile, put them in the wheelbarrow, and used those.

Now I'm wishing my pots were another foot or two taller as spuds will form along the stems as long as they are covered. Hmm, I already feel another potato project coming on for next growing season. We'll see how these turn out before I become too rambunctious and begin building potato towers.

The rest of the garden seems to be doing well, although a half inch of rain would be welcome. 

The cauliflower plants are beginning to make heads and I pinned the leaves around the largest to keep it shaded and out of the direct sunlight, something that will cause it to turn brown with a bitter taste.

I was under a bit of a time constraint as Sheri said they would pick me up during the late morning so I might ride to Green Bay with her, Sarah, and Isabella. 

My attentions were turned to the north side of the barn. Like most people who live in the country and have some acreage, I have a place where stuff is kept... those items that are too good to throw away, but too large or cumbersome to keep inside. City people might refer to such an area as a useable junk yard of smaller proportions. Mine has always been to the north side of the barn, a place no one ever sees; that shaded, overgrown, hidden area, where the boogie man might dwell and and only the brave dare to go.

I keep mostly metal there, scraps that might be needed for future welding projects; also landscape timbers, an old tire and rim, grates used when boiling maple syrup; treasures too valuable to mention.

The weeds and brush usually overgrow the area, hiding all my valuables and it's easy to pretend it doesn't exist. 

Friday morning was cleaning day. I needed to power wash that side of the barn in preparation of painting. I took a big breath and began raking and moving.

What was that buzz? I felt something inside my pant leg and though I couldn't see them, I knew I'd stepped on a ground hornet's nest. 

Sorry, no pictures to accompany this, but I quickly sat on the drive and peeled the jeans from my body. A hornet flew out. I'm not sure why he didn't sting me, but I was surely grateful. So were other parts of my body.

I finally located the entrance to the nest. Time to arm myself.

A garden sprayer was partially filled with gasoline and pumped to the maximum pressure. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Invoking a prayer to the God of Dead Hornets Everywhere, I waded into battle. 

A fine mist was sprayed directly into the swarm of marauding insects, all intent on doing me harm. Though the gas quickly knocked them down, I remember wishing for something stronger, anything, perhaps something containing Iran's nuclear waste. 

The entrance to the nest was reached unscathed. I quickly adjusted the nozzle to emit a course stream, and picturing Sylvester Stallone in one of his best Rambo roles, jammed the wand directly into the hole, filling it with gas. The bussing ceased. The Battle of Hornet Hill was won. 

Oh yeah, there is no hill, the name simply spices up the story.

Friday's weapons of war

Any stragglers were quickly subdued with a can of Yard Guard. It was time to get down and dirty, clean the area, and power wash that side of the barn.

While the power washer was running, I took the opportunity to knock this season's layers of dirt from the riding mower. Sargie said she'd mow the lawn this weekend. I want her to be able to do so in style, a pretty mower for a pretty girl.

Time was getting short. I ran into the house and had just finished a quick shower when Sheri and the girls pulled into the drive. The following pictures tell the story.

With Isabella sleeping, Sarah drove, I was her copilot, and Sheri served as wingman. 

Isabella has to be wondering why the big people enjoyed Subway sandwiches while all she got was strained carrots. Sometimes life's not fair.

And so, after a short wait at the airport, we sadly bade Sarah and Baby Isabella goodbye. They were due to arrive in Salt Lake City, Utah, last night around 10 PM.

Sheri and I had a good ride home, talking and laughing, catching up on all the news of the world. The two-and-a-half hours flew by.

Sargie was already mowing when we pulled into the drive. After a short visit, Sheri took off for home. Sargie and I came in the house to escape the mosquitoes. 

Sargie's off this weekend. It appears today will be spent outside. Sargie's going to mow, I plan to paint the north side of the barn. The garden will need to be watered this evening, and if there's any time (or energy) remaining, I'd like to bring another load of fill up to the side yard. Looks to be a busy day, but then are we surprised?

Everyone knows that a man's work is never done.

Only in Title Town, home of the Green Bay Packers

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...