Stand under the eave for a few minutes. I dare you.

January 24, 2017 - Tuesday

32 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

The January thaw continues. It's sloppy and gloppy and... well, okay, I got my mid winter wish. The snow has settled, the pavement is bare. It's time the temperatures drop again. Supposedly, that's to happen beginning tonight with more normal conditions forecast for the next ten days. 

This is great ice fishing weather, except who wants to sit with their feet submerged in a foot of slushy water? Even last week, when Neighbor Mike and I went fishing, I tossed a bluegill onto the keeper pile only to have him go swimming away across the surface of the ice. 

I'd like to play with the drone Sargie got me for Christmas, but I'm fearful that as a student pilot, I'd crash the thing into a pile of slushy snow and short it out. 

So, here we are, hopefully, at the end of this year's January thaw. I remember the rainy days when I was a young child and wanted to go outside to play. Mom made me stay in with a promise that the sun would come out... tomorrow. 

Bet 'chur bottom dollar that tomorrow.... 

Never mind. It just popped into my head and I couldn't resist.

I walked the usual five miles Monday morning. Even the shoulders alongside the road are muddy. A logging truck came my direction and covered me with slush. Charles Atlas and I suddenly became kindred spirits.

Once home, I stole some of Grady's cereal and enjoyed a huge bowl of Cheerios with raisins sprinkled on top. Reenergized, I was ready to greet the day head on.

I could go ice fishing... too slushy.

How about a walk through the woods. Mark potential trees to tap... too wet.

Clean up any snow on the drive? Already melted.

Sweep out the garage! Did that this past weekend.

Play with the drone? Too wet. It would crash and short out in the slush.

Clean the flue on the wood stove... did that this weekend.

The list went on and on, but it seemed everything I wanted to do was outside. Oh yeah, Sargie has a long, long, list of inside projects that need to be tackled, but most involve deep thinking and precise measurements. What fun are those?

I gave up any thought of an outdoor activity and headed to my happy place, the shop. 

I began working with an ongoing project on the lathe. I wasn't feeling the love anyway when my chisel snagged a knot and the thing flew apart. I gathered the pieces, examined them closely, then made the long walk of shame into the house and threw what was left into the wood stove.

The potential platter didn't even burn very well. Darn worthless piece of wood anyway.

The highpoint of my day was when I was gathering firewood and a wonderful piece of birch popped out at me, literally. The thing fell from the top of the pile and almost hit me on the head. 

Hmm, it was just the right size and fairly round. 

It was talking to me. What's that? You want me to make you into a bowl with two rope borders?

Suddenly, I was Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams. 

Turn it and the bowl will come.

So I abandoned the wheel barrow of firewood in front of the shed and returned to the shop. A shape slowly began to emerge from the raw chunk of wood. The sloppy weather no longer mattered as my sensitive, artistic, creative, straight-guy, side began to emerge. 

Mozart's Horn Concerto in E Flat was playing on Pandora. Even the great master approved. 

If ever a mini-bowl was to be created out of a chunk of firewood, now was the time.

I was in the zone. 

The shavings were shedding off like peels from a banana. It was an hour, possibly more, before I took the bowl-to-be off the lathe and examined my work. It was a new shape, a different design than I'd ever created during my three months as a master-novice turner who knows next to nothing about the lathe.

As long as the good vibes were heading in the right direction, I decided to quit and turned out the lights. I'll continue to work on the bowl today.

Sargie was home early and we enjoyed a peaceful evening watching Antiques Road Show. I'm convinced that if I'd have saved all my childhood toys, I'd now be a millionaire several times over. It's occurred to me that not only would my toys be antiques, so am I.

Sargie closes tonight. It's going to be a long day for my girl. 

I'm going to go for my morning walk, maybe stretch it out a couple more miles than usual, then head to the shop. I should go into town for some spray paint so I can finish the crappie piece that I've been working on and then I'd like to continue working on the new bowl, the newest creation with a two-rope border.

And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, the sun will come out, tomorrow, bet 'chur bottom dollar that tomorrow...

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...