The completed birch bowl

January 5, 2017 - Thursday

-12 degrees/clear/windy

Pentoga Road

I remember sitting by the wood stove in the arctic on mornings just like this one. It was pitch black outside, the wind was howling with the temperatures well below zero. 

The lower windows are covered with ice this morning

Today has the same feel, only now, if I chose not to throw another log on the fire, I have the option of turning up the thermostat and within minutes, the house is cozy warm. I really enjoy that I no longer have to chip ice to make coffee. This morning has the same feel as those many years ago, but I fear I've grown spoiled and soft in my old age. 

With the temperatures only reaching a high of 4 above zero and the winds gusting to 40 mph on Wednesday, I skipped my usual walk and began doing laundry. 

I could swear that more than two people live in this house and I've often accused Sargie of changing clothes several times a day. If that's the case, I must do the same. I had just as much in the wash as she did.



With everything washed, hung, or folded, I drove to town for propane. A stop was made to see Yooper Brother Mark at the plant. Ann was home sick, but it appeared as though Mark had everything under control.

I turned on the heat in the shop then came inside to eat lunch. Returning half an hour later, the shop was warm enough that I could begin cleaning.





Good grief, but I make a mess. By the time I had all the equipment brushed off, there was a mountain of turnings, sawdust, and wood chips, a mile high. 

It took more than a little bit of time to put all the tools away.



The table saw (with the blade retracted) is the central catch point for the shop and seems as though everything is thrown there to be put away later. 

I finally got to the lathe and began buffing the birch bowl I'd started on Tuesday. The final turning was to separate it from the tenon on the bottom that held it to the lathe.



It was late afternoon before I came back in the house. Sargie had called and was on her way home with Hambone. I carried in his toys from the storage shed and made the house Grady-proof.

I really like when Grady first arrives and is so excited. I barely get him off the ground before he wraps his arms and legs around me, giving old Pawpaw a big ol' hug. 

Last night was a quiet one. We had supper then Grady and Grandma Sargie sat in her chair looking at something or the other on her computer. 



Hambone must have been tired as he made no protests about going to bed. Grandma Sargie put his footie PJ's on him before he was covered with one blanket after another. It's cool upstairs and we wanted to make sure he'd be warm enough. 

I was reminded of my early childhood days, when we'd visit Grandma and Grandpa Pennington. They lived in an old ramshackle house that was kept warm mostly by Grandma's wood cook stove in the kitchen. 

We slept in an old feather bed upstairs and I well remember Grandma piling on a mountain of hand stitched quilts, so many that my sister or I could barely turn over. 

Grady had the same look on his face last night that I must have worn well over sixty years ago. He was warm, content, comfortable, and sleepy.

Today. What will today bring? I don't know. It's too cold to play outside for any length of time. I doubt Mel or Macrea would be too happy if we brought their little guy home with frost bite covering his cheeks and nose. No doubt, we'll carry in wood and possibly check the ice shack out on the lake, but otherwise, it looks like an inside coloring book/puzzle day.

The storm door is working as it's covered with thick ice this morning.

One thing I do know... my coffee cup is empty and evidently the maid is on strike. I guess I'll have to get my own. Darn, it's true. Life really is full of sacrifices.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...