Friday was pyramid and planter repair day

May 20, 2017 - Saturday

30 degrees/clear/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I was so excited when I returned home from my walk Friday morning to find that a pair of barn swallows were moving into one of the new blue bird houses on the side of the barn.

Since nary a bluebird decided to call either house their home, I was happy to see new tenants moving in, even if they were a pair of lowly barn swallows.

I soon forgot about the birds as I finished sealing the front porch.

It's the newest fashion statement, two wood burls which will eventually be turned into bowls and a set of deer antlers. The two glass candle holders show everyone we not only have class, we have style.

It took over an hour to complete, but sealing the deck and porch floor is one job I can check off this spring's list.

Brutus began barking uncontrollably. I knew that bark. There was a squirrel in the live trap.

Brutus doesn't bark a lot for the most part, but squirrels set him off, especially those that are just inches out of reach. I dealt with the squirrel and Brutus went back to doing what he does best, being at my side.

The next item on the agenda was to begin repair of the pyramid planters. After being beaten down by heavy, wet, snow, and holding hundreds of pounds of dirt, some were in pretty bad shape.

I was especially disappointed to find that many of the bottom shelves have rotted and even some of the interior frame is in poor condition.

The fact that I used all treated lumber seems to have made no difference and it'll be just a matter of another year or two that I'll either have to rebuild each or completely tear them down.

I brought out the power nailer to fasten any loose shelves.
The greenery you see are strawberry plants.

I next turned my attention to the large trug planter that I built from scrap timbers and dogwood fencing three years ago. Although not rotten, it was sagging on the bottom, the result of too much weight pushing against too thin of boards.

Still alongside the barn, I was shoveling the remaining dirt from the inside when I felt something soft brush against one ear then a quick pinch.

OUCH!

I looked up to see one of the barn swallows making a sharp turn and coming in for another attack. They not only decided to move into the bluebird house, they were going to defend their territory.

The shovel I was using and I became one long, lean, instrument. 

To loosely quote Johnny in the movie, Dirty Dancing, "No one puts Tommy P in the corner."

It was the ninth inning of game seven in the world series. Both teams have won three games, it's the 9th inning, bases loaded, the count 3 -2. 

Here comes the pitch, carried on two wings, beak open, flames shooting from the little bird mouth.

It's a swing ... and a... miss.

The swallows must have taken the hint. Both vacated their new digs soon after and I haven't seen either since. I'll hang the FOR RENT sign on the front of the birdhouse again today once the newly rebuilt planter is refilled with dirt.

I moved the trug over to the front of the barn and began working in earnest. The box was made rectangular rather than in a triangle shape to take the weight off the slanted bottom.

It was almost 7 last night when Sargie pulled in the drive. After a quick kiss and hug, she helped me move the planter back in place.

Last evening was a quiet one on Pentoga Road. Sargie had a long day and I was tired and my feet hurt. I don't know if I have arthritis, bone spurs, planters fascilitis, or what. It's like I can feel each and every bone and they ache something terrible, especially after being on my feet all day. 

I've tried good shoes, bad shoes, hikers, casual, tennis, sport, work, added insoles, no insoles, and the results are all the same. Guess it's time to make an appointment with the podiatrist and find out what's happening. Since arthritis runs in our family, I'm suspecting that might be the culprit. Other than that, after tens of thousands of miles hiked over the years, they simply could be worn out. 

I keep saying, this getting old business isn't for sissies.

Meanwhile, Sargie opens this morning. I'm going to line the trug planter with black plastic then begin filling it and the pyramids with new soil from the trailer. After, I'll be doing the same with the raised beds in the garden. 

Rain is mentioned in some form or the other beginning later today and continuing for most of this coming week. So far, wet and cold, it's not shaping up to be a very good year for gardening.

It always amazes me to find the shells of these small land snails mixed in with the dirt.

It's time to pour another cup of coffee and ponder the wonders of the universe... or maybe I'll just throw another log on the fire and think about nothing. 

I like that better.


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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

A wild cherry tree in bloom