September 11, 2015 - Friday

44 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Let us not forget those who died in the Twin Towers fourteen years ago today. Let's also remember those fire fighters, police officers, and volunteers who gave their lives saving others. God Bless America.

Thursday was a busy one on Pentoga Road. It was also somewhat sad and later, frustrating.

The morning began with my usual walk. I was strolling along when an SUV pulled over to the side. It was the wife of my friend, Old Ken.

I haven't seen Old Ken for a while. He lives a mile and a half away and for the past three years, along with his dog, Dudley, has been a daily visitor. Ken would shuffle into the drive, we'd talk ten or fifteen minutes, then he'd shuffle out and make his way home.

I've known for sometime that Ken was in the beginning stages of Alzheimers. I've grown accustomed to hearing the same stories, acting surprised each time, and asking the same questions daily, even though I already knew the answers. Lately, I've walked with Ken to the end of the drive, making sure he turns in the right direction, then waiting ten or fifteen minutes and driving the four wheeler towards his home to make sure he doesn't get lost along the way. 

I've not seen Old Ken since last week and wondered how he was doing. I found out yesterday.

His wife said Ken will be in a care center from now on, the newest resident of the Alzheimers Unit. It makes me sad. I'm going to miss hearing the same stories of his past life, of how his first wife passed away of cancer, and of his career in the construction industry.

I've made a mental pact that I'll be visiting Old Ken every now and then. I doubt he'll know who I am. In fact, I'm not sure he knew who I was when visiting the past several months. He just knew he was supposed to know me and he enjoyed walking to our home and back.

What makes me really stop and ponder is the fact that Old Ken isn't really that much older than I am. I'm grateful for my health, both in mind and body, and pray that in the future, somebody doesn't refer to me as Old Tom should I shuffle into their drive and become confused. 

To quote John Bradford, "But for the grace of God, go I." Amen and amen.

I spent some time in the garden Thursday morning, mostly delighting in the culmination of this past summer's hard work. I'm beginning to get glimpses of the many winter squash that will be harvested in the next few weeks. 

Delecata Winter Squash (orange) seen through the maze of vines and stems

The beans used for drying and as seed for next year's crop are thick and plentiful.

The rutabagas, those that will be peeled, boiled, and mashed, for the Mighty Milligan Thanksgiving Feast are huge. We'll enjoy their sweet flavor in November.

The rest of the day was spent running wires and hooking up switches and outlets in the barn and shop. 

The lead wires for the special lights I purchased for the shop were too short to wire directly. The solution? Add a plug and install a receptacle in the ceiling. Boom.

Things progressed smoothly until I flipped the circuit breaker on... and it promptly switched off. I turned it on, it went off. On.. off. On... off. I willed it to stay on. It insisted otherwise.

I checked, I wiggled, I cussed and swore. I might have even invoked a prayer to Baby Jesus. Nothing helped.

It had to have been a bad circuit breaker. Sure, that was it! I knew the new wiring was good as I had taken my time installing each and every receptacle and switch. I hopped on the four wheeler and chugged to town, only to return, install the new breaker in the panel and find that it, too, was adamant about clicking off.

There was nothing to do but strap on the magnifiers and begin the process of elimination. Somewhere, there was a dead short.

It was in the third receptacle. I had tightened a screw thinking the wire was underneath. I hadn't really seen the wire, only felt it with my thumb and it had been arcing off another wire, tripping the breaker.

I know I should wear the magnifiers all the time when doing close-up work, but after a while, they make me sick to my stomach. It's the same kind of feeling as being on a roller coaster, too close and too much movement. Oh well, someday I'll learn.

The lights were turned out in the barn at 6:30 last night when Sargie pulled in the drive from work. It had been a successful day, but a long one, sprinkled with sadness intertwined with several lessons in humility.

Sargie closes tonight and will be bringing Grady home with her. He and Grandpa are going to spend some quality time together tomorrow while everyone else works. After my walk this morning, I'm going to finish a couple of little electrical things in the shop and begin putting up the insulation.

But first, it's time to wake up Sargie and get a cup of coffee.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

The race is on between the cantaloupe and the first killing freeze of the season.