Seed catalogues
For a gardener, this time of year is similar to the NFL draft. Which, who, what, when, how much, how many, how long, how short, how big, how small. It's stressful, but someone has to order seeds.

January 23, 2016 - Saturday

-4 degrees/clear/calm

Pentoga Road

I wish I was more confident that I'm ordering the right seeds. My spread sheet is complete and yet, it seems for each variety of vegetable that makes the cut, my eye finds another that's not on the list. It's probably a good thing I don't have an acre or two of prime ground. There's little doubt it would be planted from fence row to fence row. 

Friday was a fun one. Neighbor Mike called early asking if I was ready to go fishing. We loaded the ice fishing gear and away we went.

The fish decided to cooperate and for the first time this season, we caught a mess, enough to bring home for a fish fry. None were trophy size, but most were "eaters."

Mike's dog, Quincy, just a few months old, accompanied us. There's definitely a big difference between an American bulldog and an English Setter. Quincy is very petite and lady-like (compared to Brutus) and being so young, is full of energy. She also thinks she's a human. Mike opened the car door and Quincy hopped in, sat down and was ready to go.

Page Two

I spent part of Friday afternoon cleaning fish. The filets are soaking in water in the refrigerator waiting for tonight's feast.

The drive needed to be plowed. Once again, we've had no significant snowfall at any one time, but rather, an inch has fallen here, another there. After a week's time, it begins to add up.

I finished plowing, came in the house, and went to call Sargie. No phone. Where was the phone. WHERE WAS THE PHONE? I'd put it in my coat pocket before going outside as I knew Sargie would be calling on break.

I looked in every snowbank between the house and mailbox. Finally, at Sargie's suggestion, I used the other handset, pushed the intercom, and began walking. The missing phone was found in back of the burn barrel towards the woods. I plow a single path back there so Brutus can do his usual early morning ritual well away from the yard.

Thankfully, it was cold enough that no snow had melted into the handset and after a quick brush off, it worked as good as ever. It remains a mystery how I managed to not run over the thing, but I'm grateful it still works. One was lost a year ago when I was working in the garden, forgot about it, and a frog strangler of a rainstorm did it in.

Sargie had to close last night so our evening was short, but she's off today. I'm going to leave fairly soon for the lake and fish for a couple of hours. Sargie wants to sleep in and by the time she's up, takes her shower, and performs her daily morning rituals, I should be back home. 

I have no idea what's on today's agenda. Hopefully, cleaning fish will be a last minute addition.

With that being said, I'd better get going. It will soon be daylight and those fish aren't going to catch themselves.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Brutus and Quincy
True BFF's (Best Friends Forever)