Some things in life are too good for words.
Just ask Isabella!

May 2, 2017 - Tuesday

34 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

Monday was pretty much a non-event on Pentoga Road. It seems that whatever my mind decided to do, the rest of me nixed.

I spent most the morning in the shop working on a scroll saw project.

I really wasn't in the mood and made a fatal cut, a mistake where I cut on the edge of a shadow and not a line. The work was placed into the wood stove. 

I tried turning, but the wood was wet. That was a near disaster. I brought the piece in the house to dry.

I'd think of one thing, then another, but my mind overrode my body and rejected each project. 

Depression? 

Naw. I was suffering from a case of the late winter/early springtime blahs.

Lazy? Perhaps. It was a cold, windy, and rainy day, and I just wanted to sit on my backside by the wood stove and watch television.

In the end, that's exactly what I did.

Luke sent a picture of my oldest grandson, Coleman, after his first lacrosse game. Since this is his team's first year of competition and Coleman scored the only goal, he can say he was the first-ever to score for his school's lacrosse team. 

Coleman and Neal Armstrong now have something in common.

I reshuffled the bedding plants in the indoor greenhouse Monday afternoon. Honestly, if we don't start getting some warm weather and sun, Sargie and I will be walking through a jungle each time we enter the living room.

While I was out of the recliner, I ran the vacuum over the rugs and swept the floors. Other than carry in a wheel barrow full of wood, that was the extent of my day.

Andy sent this picture from his mother's house, my old home, in northern Maine. When I first got sober, quit drinking, many years ago, I was told that I needed to keep busy. There was an old chicken coop on our property that was still somewhat intact. 

With the sons' help, I remade it into a clubhouse, a camp, where we installed a wood stove and other manly conveniences. The boys spent many nights out there with their friends. Josh and some of his cadet buddies even slept (mostly consumed a lot of beer) in the old chicken coop one winter weekend when they came home from the Coast Guard Academy. At one time, I even had a cobblestone walk and steps going to the door and the front and far side was surrounded by a beautiful, trellised, garden. With no one to keep it up and well over a hundred years old, the old chicken coop finally met it's demise. 

I have to be honest, it makes me sad. Really sad.

Life goes on.

After a busy afternoon in the Vision Center, Sargie didn't arrive home until later last night. We enjoyed soup and biscuits while watching Antique Road Show followed by Dancing With the Stars. What would we do without a DVR?

Grady's coming home with Sargie tonight for a couple of days. I guess Hambone's babysitter had something or the other come up, so Grady can help me work on the front stoop. Assuming that gets finished, we might begin digging the garden pond on Thursday. Both involve the tractor, a four wheeler, a lot of sand, the backhoe, and no doubt, some heavy earth moving by a toy truck or two. Hambone and dirt go together like biscuits and gravy. It's a match made in little boy heaven.

Meanwhile, it's time to get today started. I should get back to walking. Problem is, I have developed bone spurs in both of my heels making trekking a painful experience. 

The eyes go, the hearing's not worth a darn, the feet go... what's next? Dang, it's fun getting old. 

One thing's for certain, I'm not going to sit around on my behind all day worrying about it. Life's too short and there's too much to do.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

The giant pumpkins are beginning to pop through the surface. I hope to have them in the ground (under cover) by this time next week.