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| At age two, there's nothing more fun than playing outside after dark on a warm, spring, night. |
51 degrees/sunny/calm winds
Pentoga Road
Just like that, yesterday's 88 degree heat wave left in a flash and we're back to more seasonal norms.
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| A honeyberry bush in bloom |
Yesterday's walk wasn't without a bit of discomfort. I think the inside stitches are pulling and the incision of the stomach wall is healing. It feels as though I need more skin down there as things heal and grow together.
Then there's one exterior stitch that's enough to cause me to mutter every now and then. I'm not sure what its purpose is, but it's easily irritated by my belt and should I turn the wrong way, feels as though the doctor is attempting to pull it out BEFORE cutting the thread. Oh well, next Wednesday will soon be here and with it, my doctor's appointment. I'm hoping he can take out the evil stitch and work his doctor magic. Most of all, I'm praying he'll give me the go ahead to resume normal activity.
Page Three:
After a quick trip to town on Friday, I got down to business and planted onion sets... even without Al Gore. It was pleasant sitting in the sun, at least the first five minutes were nice.
Then the sweat began pouring into my eyes. After, the flies started swarming around me and before I knew what was happening, a bee stung me where my shirt and pants fail to meet when bending over.
The onions were planted, but what a pain in the... butt.
Page Three:
Speaking of flies, yesterday's hot temperatures brought out a hatch of cluster flies. The barn and garage had millions, maybe bajillions of them, so bad that it was almost impossible to walk into the kitchen or the shop.
In the end, I closed the door to both buildings and set off bug bombs. That took care of the problem.
Page Four:
With my belly hurting, I took it easy the rest of the afternoon by cutting seed potatoes.
Five pounds usually gives us what we need and I'm anxious to get them planted into the new addition to the garden.
After cutting the spuds, I lay them out, flesh side up, so they might crust over, making them less likely to rot in the ground before sprouting.
Page Five:
Sargie arrived home after work with thirty-five pounds of happy boy. Grady was ready to rumble, but first, we drove to meet Mark, Sheri, and Jerad, for a Friday night fish fry.
Sitting at the head of one table, Grady was the perfect little guy. He delighted in entertaining everyone.
He ate, he laughed, and he sent the entire table into hysterics when initially biting into a lemon. It must not have been that bad, he did it two or three times and enjoyed licking the juice.
Once home, we played outside in the dark for quite a while. Grandma Sargie had purchased a swing and I temporarily hung it from a previous frame of our porch swing, so it worked out well. I'm going to have to come up with something else from which to attach Grady's swing for the summer months. I like our's too much to sacrifice it!
Grady ran and ran, laughed, and loved feeling the wind on his face and in his hair. For me, the clock was rolled back over sixty years when we occasionally played Hide and Go Seek or Kick the Can in the yard after dark. It was magic.
All good things come to an end and Grady enjoyed his yogurt before Grandma Sargie washed him and eventually put him to bed. We didn't (and haven't yet) heard a peep out of him.
Page Six:
Today's going to be a busy one on Pentoga Road. Grady and PawPaw are planting taters. Then there's the sandbox in which to play and a four-wheeler ride is in the works. No doubt the three of us will do some grocery shopping and after, well, who knows?
Well, there's one thing we know. A man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
At the end, Grady says, "bite," meaning he's ready for another spoonful of yogurt.
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