Three of our Grandbabies
Ellie, Cody, and Wyatt

September 17, 2017 - Sunday

66 degrees/rainy/breezy

Pentoga Road

Just look at those munchkins if you would. They're bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and most of all, active. There are times I wished we lived closer to the East Coast so we could be a part of their lives, but I'm grateful for the pictures. Those three babies are going to do just fine.

Ellie

All, along with their mother, are active in triathlon activities. They also follow in Josh's footsteps as mountain bikers. Those young Pennington's live in a busy busy household.

Turn back the clock thirty years and that could have been his dad. Wyatt's the spittin' image of Josh at that age.

Cody on his first day of school

Saturday dawned hot and humid in the North Woods. While Sargie did her thing inside, I headed to the shop and finished turning one bowl.

I enjoy working with maple, but the grain isn't overly interesting as compared to working with spalted birch or some of the other woods.

Initially, I was going to turn a lid for the bowl, but Sargie said it didn't need one, that it was fine just as it was. She suggested I use the the little bit of wood still in the lathe to make a shallow bowl. She has a small one sitting on the bathroom counter where she keeps her rings and jewelry while getting ready for bed.

I actually enjoyed making the small bowl more than the larger one and decided to experiment a bit. I made a black accent ring by holding a piece of steel wool against the lip as the bowl was turning. Friction caused it to burn the wood.

At any rate, it felt good to be at the lathe once again, making the shavings fly. 

It's said that practice makes perfect. I hope I never achieve perfection. Learning is too much fun.

It was almost noon before Sargie and I left for our drive. After a stop for Cokes at McDonalds and chicken fingers from the local deli, we made our way south and found ... elephants.

That's right, two trumpeting elephants going at it in the woods of someone's lakeside home.

Just goes to show that if one drives long enough, he'll see most anything.

We wound our way south, down into northern Wisconsin, enjoying a few of the more remote roads through the national forest.

We were gone for most of the afternoon, just putzing along, pausing here and there, but mostly, enjoying our time together. Even several years ago, doing such a thing would have driven me crazy. Today, with Sargie, it's one of my favorite things to do.

I've come to realize that in my earlier years, I was entirely too ignorant (another word for stupid) and self absorbed to pause long enough to see the world around me. Today, I can't get enough of it, even in my own back yard.

Back home, Sargie and I took a tour of the garden, or what's left of it, where she found a large spaghetti squash. 

Yooper Brother Mark and Sheri pronounced the one we gave them earlier as delicious. We decided to give it a try.

Sargie coated it with olive oil before placing it in the oven.  

While the squash was baking, Sargie and I hopped on the four wheeler and rode to the river. It was there that we encountered an extended family from Wisconsin, complete with small children, who were also enjoying their ATV's.

There were four or five machines and at least that many big people, all with mud-covered munchkins in tow. 

We decided to go ahead and ride around our "block," a seven mile stretch, and made our way to the local lake. What was sitting there but a 1929 Ford Roadster, complete with rumble seat.

It had been quite a day of sight seeing. As I said, if one drives long enough, he's liable to see most anything. First, there were the elephants and now, at a remote lake, a pristine, classic, automobile. 

The driver said it belongs to his father, an elderly gentleman, and they too, were out enjoying the day. 

It was time for supper, to go where we hadn't gone before, and try the spaghetti squash.

Hot and out of the oven, Sargie applied some secret herbs and spices and sprinkled on parmesan cheese. We both agreed that the squash was... different. I think in years to come, I'll grow the spaghetti type for those who enjoy it and we'll stick to our old-fashioned winter varieties.

We practiced an ancient ritual last night, an almost lost tradition that people have done for generations. We sat out on the front porch without computers, phones, or any other device, and enjoyed watching the evening. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

Sargie works from noon until five today. I'll head out to the shop as soon as she leaves and begin work on a scroll saw piece... or a bowl... or a puzzle. 

The Packers don't play until this evening, a big game with Atlanta. It promises to be a nail biter.

I hear noise overhead meaning Sargie's up and around. Guess I'll close and head upstairs to help her make the bed and get the day started.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Wyatt, my oldest son, Josh, and Cody