The shores of Fire Lake, another beautiful body of water in the UP

July 20, 2015 - Monday

65 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

It's becoming obvious, how we're losing minutes of sunlight each day. I was awake at 4 this morning and it was pitch black, a change from just six weeks ago. Then I woke again at 5. It was barely light. Even now, at 6, the sun is just making itself known. I love winter and the cold months, but I'm not anxious to see them coming quite so quickly. Oh well, it is what it is and there's not a whole lot anyone can do about it.

I'm sad. The red Olympus Tough camera that Sargie bought me two years ago seems to have died. I tried a different battery and have done everything but dance the Hootchi Coo. I'll get by now with the camera on my iPhone until I pick something else up; possibly a used pocket camera from eBay. Grady loves to play with my cameras. It appears as though he'll have the old red one on which to chew and cut teeth.

Sunday produced a mixed bag of goodies. It was cool and windy and the day was made for being outside. After a late start, the trailer was emptied of fire wood. I intended to do only part of it, but with the cooler temperatures, it wasn't an unpleasant chore and I was soon sweeping the residue from the floor and preparing it for yet another load.

Sargie had been up and around for some time and we decided to drop the trailer off at the plant, then do some shopping and take our usual Sunday afternoon drive.

Minnows anyone?

Our drive took us north to Amasa, Michigan, about twenty miles from Pentoga Road. Amasa is a pretty little burg loaded with logging history.

The old train depot

We arrived home later in the afternoon. Sargie hung wash out on the line while I fixed some locally-made mozzarella bratwursts purchased earlier in the day. To say they were to die-for good would be an understatement. You know they are good when they pop in your mouth and the juice runs down your chin.

I was sitting in my shop on Sunday evening when Sargie walked out, helmet in hand, suggesting we go for a four-wheeler ride. The evening was too perfect to waste. I'd picked a couple of young zucchini squash earlier in the day meant for Mark and Sheri. It only made sense that we four-wheeled to town.

Sargie was the pilot for last night's flight. I flew in the right-hand seat (okay, I sat behind her).

My eyes are extremely sensitive to the sunlight. Not enough light and I'm blind. Too much, I can't see. It's one of those damned if you/damned if you don't type of things. I spent too many years driving a snowmobile across the blinding flats of the arctic. Sargie volunteered to drive last night. I was more than happy to let her.

Notice the skull on Sargie's helmet. We'd purchased it for Grady, but rather than a child's small, they sent an adult small. Sargie needed a helmet, it fit, and the rest is history. Now the entire world knows that Sargie is really a wild, rebel, biker woman.

The ride was flawless. I could get used to being the copilot.

We had a great visit with Mark and Sheri while sitting at their picnic table and eating chocolate ice cream.

The girls are checking some of Sheri's beautiful plants and flowers.

We left with just enough light remaining to make it home before sunset. It had been the perfect day; a bit of work, lots of play.

Sargie's back at the Vision Center today. I need to scoot into town first thing this morning to buy a loaf of homemade bread. There was none yesterday. Other than that, the lawn needs mowing, the back of the storage sheds needs painting, the side yard is calling my name, and I'm sure there are one or a million other things that need my attention. Or, I might do nothing other than play in the barn. 

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...