August 8, 2017 - Tuesday
61 degrees/clear skies/breezy
Pentoga Road

Since Sargie's off, we'll be joining her sisters and family and driving over to her niece, Lisa's, later today. Lisa and their three munchkins are preparing to join husband, Benoit, in Luxembourg, where he will be working for Amazon, the internet giant. Today will be a chance to see them one last time before they leave the country.

Since the family has been living in Texas, I've just gotten to know Lisa this past spring and summer. They purchased a seasonal lake home about an hour away last year and we'll be meeting there this afternoon.

Back on Pentoga Road:

I'm uncertain how much more I could have crammed into Monday's time frame. I was busy, that's for sure.

My morning walk was one of the best I've enjoyed in a long while. The temperature was in the low 50's and the sun bright with just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes and gnats at bay. I found myself wishing I'd have had Sargie drop me off further from home so I could have hiked a bit longer.

Once home, picking blueberries consumed the entire morning. 



Each time I pick, I think they are about finished for the year, yet I got more yesterday than the last time and that was more than the time before. They just keep coming.



The color blue is very difficult for me to see. I suppose it has something to do with the macular degeneration, but for whatever reason, I have a devil of a time picking only the ripe berries. 



The fruit is the biggest I've ever grown. Perhaps it's because the bushes are six years old and beginning to reach maturity. Since they can live up to fifty years and more, mine are mere fledglings. I won't have to worry about replacing them until I'm one hundred and twenty years old.

I began a new maintenance schedule by fertilizing them heavily last fall and spreading a liberal amount of aluminum sulfate to lower the acidity in the soil. This spring I added sulfur and even more fertilizer. 

Whatever the reason (most likely, dumb luck) the berries are huge and plentiful. I picked over five quarts on Monday.



Big excitement out of the garden. We'll be picking our first tomato in the next day or two.



Last year's maiden tomato was an integral part of the summer's first bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. I'm guessing this one will be used in the same manner.

I've been asked how the bale experiment, growing tomatoes in a bale of straw, has gone.



Honestly, there are so many tomatoes on the plant that there's hardly any room for foliage. The variety, simply called Forty-one Day, has set many two inch green tomatoes and we're anticipating picking a number of ripe ones in the next two weeks.

After a mid afternoon lunch, I was back outside on the backhoe, digging out boulders from the area north of the barn.



Most were quite large and one was impossible. 



I became convinced the lower part is buried somewhere in China and gave up digging after an hour.



I took advantage of what little time remained in the afternoon to bring the Man Truck up to the barn and ready it to haul fill later this morning. While I was up to my elbows in grease, I decided to change the oil in the riding mower.

The Man Truck... ah, what a testament to good old fashioned American manufacturing. The beast should have died years ago, yet each spring, I turn the key and it roars to life. Since the frame is rusted through in the middle, I'll haul several light loads of dirt today rather than one or two large ones. The truck is like its owner, not nearly as strong as it once was.

Other than feed the goldfish and fertilize the giant pumpkins, the last activity of the day was to move the backhoe to the rear of the property. It's finally dry enough to begin digging fill.

Sargie was home fairly early last night and we enjoyed our evening in front of the television. 

I'm going to get this uploaded and hike to Pentoga Village and back. It's a three mile trek with several killer hills between here and the Brule River. After, I want to haul at least one load of dirt to fill in the holes where the boulders were dug. Lastly, I've been asked to make popcorn to take for this afternoon's gathering. 

There's a back brake dragging on the Kia which means we'll leave it off at the mechanic's in Iron Mountain on our way to Lisa's this afternoon. 

Seems there's always something. If only you had my life, you'd understand.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...