Miss Ivy is enjoying the springtime snow in northern Maine

April 3, 2017 - Monday

41 degrees/light rain/ calm winds

Pentoga Road

We are delighting in this latest bout of warm weather. Yesterday's high reached the mid-sixties and all I wanted to do was play outside. I couldn't stand the thought of a near-perfect day going to waste and it didn't.

Out the door first thing, I hiked to Pentoga Village. Sister-in-law, Jeanne, called to ask some early-season gardening questions and I enjoyed talking with her during the return journey home. 

Boots were exchanged for shoes and it was out to the greenhouse. The hollyhocks I planted several weeks ago needed transplanting into individual pots.

Ah, the aroma, the ambience, of the greenhouse, to stand among the bags of this and that, plastic six packs, wire, twine, and frost blankets, some out of place. It made no difference. For an hour on Sunday morning, life was celebrated as I dipped my hands into the moist potting soil, filling small containers in which to transplant the perennial flowers. 

I'm getting ready to do some major work on the greenhouse. Whether it's this year or next remains to be seen.

Since there is no need for the clear panels on the north side of the greenhouse, the same for the part of the roof that slants north, I'm considering replacing the panels with solid material to better insulate the inside. Brother Elmer, my Inupiaq Eskimo friend, used to tell me that only fear is holding me back. 

Indeed it is. 

Still, I envision the north side of the greenhouse, the one that faces the house, as having weathered barn-type siding and sporting a rustic garden look. Will I actually go through with it? Time will tell.

I staked out an area 10x7 feet yesterday to get an idea of what I might want for a garden pond. I picture a waterfalls starting above the planter by the greenhouse and dropping down into a pond, complete with fountain, in the green middle area. 

It's the fear thing, the old, If it ain't broke, why fix it? On the other hand, the area where the garden and orchard are was once filled with brush, trash, and boulders. It wasn't broke, it was simply ugly. 

I moved from the greenhouse and garden to the shop. Neighbor Mike had given me a bluebird house to use as a pattern and I continued to cut out enough pieces to construct two houses.

I found the angles quite difficult, but with enough perseverance, they were cut and I'll begin assembling the houses today. Both will be fastened under the overhang on the south side of the barn facing the back yard, one at each end.

I placed two types of early bearing tomatoes between wet paper towels Sunday morning.

I'm especially interested in the 42 Day variety. (Its actual name.) I can't imagine having ripe tomatoes by the Fourth of July and since we're this far north, wouldn't be surprised if the forty-two days stretches to sixty-five or longer. Still, being a sucker for garden gimmicks, I had to give this variety a try.

The tomato seeds are placed between the folds of a damp paper towel and sealed in a zip lock bag. They should swell and sprout in the next four to five days at which time they'll planted in six packs allowing them to mature in preparation for the gardening season.

Sargie and I had a wonderful afternoon drive around several lakes west of Iron River. We're enjoying our short daily jaunts rather than the longer trip that we'd originally planned. We live in an area where people from all over the country travel to on vacation. Why not enjoy what's in our own backyard?

Back home, Sargie, wanting to get some exercise, talked me into taking another walk to Pentoga.

It's a three mile hike, round trip, with plenty of hills to elevate the heart rate. I actually started the pedometer at the halfway point, in Pentoga Village, before we started back. Our home is towards the top.

Sargie spotted something in the woods. Fearless, she crossed the ditch and pulled out an old metal pot, possibly one that was used as a thunder mug. 

My hiking partner loves relics. The pot was brought home and I'll do some repairs before she fills it with dirt to be used as a flower planter.

Sargie also noticed a rather interesting branch growing from one of the trees on our property.

The branch almost makes a complete circle. Sargie says it's a heart and I should climb up and carve our initials. You know, I'm just crazy enough to do so.

Yooper Brother Mark sent a picture of Isabella enjoying a big ol' plate of spaghetti at their new home in Wyoming. I believe the move is complete and they are now in the unpacking stage.

Everyone knows that food always tastes better if you can smear some on your face.

Andy and family were enjoying the beautiful northern Maine day by being outside and walking through the snow.

Andy's always been a "hands on" type of guy and with simple hand tools, has made several pieces of their own furniture. He sent a picture of his latest creation, a toy box/book shelf for Ivy.

The art of fine furniture making has all but disappeared. With the high cost of quality lumber coupled with apathy and a lack of knowledge, people find it easier and less expensive to simply purchase an unassembled piece of furniture at a big box store and construct something made from particle board covered in paper. It's a matter of want, craftsmanship, and economics. 

I once quipped that Andy could have a future making furniture. His reply was that no one wants to pay the cost of the milled lumber, let alone for his labor.

I'm glad my youngest son is keeping the ancient craft alive.

After a meal of brats cooked on the grill, Sargie and I (oh, and Brutus) had a wonderfully quiet evening watching the Academy of Country Music Awards. 

Sargie was putting on her walking shoes and Brutus didn't want her to leave. 

Sargie has a hair appointment in Iron Mountain this morning. I'll ride with her and run a few errands while she's sitting in the chair.

First, however, I think there's enough time to assemble a bluebird house or two before leaving.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Sargie's attempting to wedge her feet from under the bulldog.
Failing to stop her from putting on her shoes, Brutus simply rolled onto her feet, preventing her from getting out of the chair (and hoping for a belly rub.)