Sheri and Mark - eating smelt Friday evening

March 19, 2016 - Saturday

8 degrees/clear/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Ugh, I'm still full. Yooper Brother Mark called the night before last inviting us to their home for a Friday evening smelt feed. As always, Sheri performed her culinary magic and naturally, I didn't have enough sense to quit eating. Smelt, shrimp, potatoes, cole slaw... date bars for dessert... it was a piggy's dream come true and I was the first to step up to the trough. 

Friday was a different type of day. Sargie and I were eating breakfast when I looked out the back window and saw a branch sticking out of the snow that shouldn't have been there. 

I put on boots, walked out, and discovered it was a nice set of deer antlers still attached to the top half of a skull.

There were no nearby tracks so whatever brought it through the yard did so before it began snowing the night before. 

I know it wasn't Brutus. He's too fearful to go into the deep woods by himself and besides, he's afraid of the dark. As I have said before, I'm pretty sure he was a fifi French poodle in his former life, complete with a pink ribbon in his hair and a tutu around his waist.

The deer skull will be mounted on a wall in my shop to provide fodder for future tall tales. I'm already thinking of a couple to relate to Grady and any visiting naive' munchkin or gullible city person.

How about...  I shot him with an arrow from a hundred yards distant as he was running away after charging Grandma Sargie as she scrubbed laundry on the old wash board down by the creek. 

Or... Billy Buck was my old companion deer, my friend, who I saved after fighting off a pack of crazed wolves and raised from an orphaned fawn. He loved me so much that he even gave me his spots and repaid my kindness by staying at my side until he died of old age. 

Bingo and boom. That's my story. Rest in peace, Billy Buck. I'll miss you buddy.

After my usual five-mile stroll Friday morning, I hopped in the car and drove to the lumber yard and bought several dowel rods with which to make my dibble board. I was looking forward to a dank, dark, dreary day of dabbling in dibbles, but darn it, dibble dabbling didn't develop. I went by the store and bought two loaves of freshly baked bread, then stopped by Yooper Brother Mark's plant to see if my trailer was filled with wood. The guys had just finished, so after a quick visit with Mark, I came back home.

I'll brag. I'm a good trailer backer upper. Well, at least I used to be when I could see that far. In my much younger years, I was able to back up a double axle hay wagon which means one has to think the opposite of backwards... forwards, while going in the opposite direction. 

I wanted to park the trailer by where it will be unloaded. Hmm, two to three inches of clearance on each side, not much room to navigate. I got it close, then spent an eternity backing a few inches, getting out and looking at the clearance, pulling ahead a bit, backing up, getting out, and the cycle was repeated over and over. 

Still, I got 'er done and even patted myself on the back for not giving up. Of course, I might have to cut down six or eight trees when I'm ready to pull the trailer ahead, but that'll be a feat for another day.

It was noon and I was hungry. Thinking up all those tall tales about the antlers had taken a lot of energy. I ate a sandwich, slurped down a glass of milk, then promptly fell sound asleep. It wasn't a mere nap, but rather a deep deep sleep, the kind that when a person wakes, he wonders what day it is. 

What to do next? I was planning on dabbling in dibbles, but I wasn't feeling the love. Dibble dabbling is best done before noon.

Since we were going to Mark and Sheri's I could try to dig their parsnips. 

Though I'm persnickety about my parsnips (which is retired professor lingo meaning that I don't care for them) I decided to brave the snow in an attempt to pry a few from the ground. The folks love their parsnips, best eaten after a hard freeze, and I enjoy raising a few for them each year.

It was no contest. The ground in the raised bed was completely thawed and a fairly good-sized pile was dug and pulled in short order.



I had planned earlier in the day to drive to Iron Mountain and as a surprise, ride home with Sargie. Today will be her sixth straight of working and we get to spend precious little time together. I arrived in time to walk with her to the rear of the store to get her coat.

Going where few dare to tread, deep in the bowels of a Walmart Super Store

Once home, Sargie mixed up a fruit salad to take to supper and we were soon on our way. Our meal was fantastic, the friendship and conversation even better. All I needed was to be painted red, white, and blue, and Sargie could have rolled me home like a big, fat, beachball. 

I'll ride back to Iron Mountain this morning to retrieve the Blazer before the challenge begins. What challenge?

Sargie purchased five lights to be hung in a series in the kitchen to replace two old, very outdated, recessed ceiling fixtures. It's going to entail fishing the wire through the soffit, no small amount of electrical work, measuring, drilling, mounting, and muttering. It's a good thing Mom's home in Indiana or my mouth would probably receive a good washing out by day's end.

If there's any time left after, I'll begin unloading firewood from the trailer. Then, there are dibbles to dabble with, but dibble dabbling is a morning thing, so maybe I'll mount the deer antlers on a wall in the shop.

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

Rest in peace, Billy Buck. I miss you my friend.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...