More rutabagas were pulled late Thursday afternoon

November 30, 2017 - Thursday evening

29 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Since I'm due in Iron Mountain first thing Friday morning, I figured I'd better write tonight.

Thursday was a mixed bag of tricks. I was about halfway through my walk, almost two miles from home, when I discovered I was wearing my old work shoes, not my normal hiking boots. My heels weren't slow in letting me know later of my error. I bet it won't happen again.

I'd talked to a clerk at Home Depot last week about the best way to clean the buffing wheel used to polish bowls. Oil was inadvertently dripped on the white cloth wheel while I was lubricating and sharpening a knife on the adjacent grinding wheel.

The clerk suggested I use Dawn Dish Soap and wash the wheel by hand.

The wheel was then placed close to the stove to dry.

At first, I questioned her suggestion, but in the end, it worked.

The rest of the day was spent at the lathe. The first thing was to find the exact center of the hickory boards I'd laminated Wednesday evening.

A circle was cut using the bandsaw.

Finally, the wood was ready to mount.

Time was spent intermittently during the day turning the hickory. It's some of the harder wood that I've mounted on the mini lathe resulting in the 1/3rd horse power motor often lagging down.

I quit later in the afternoon to clean up before driving to Iron Mountain to meet Sargie. I first stopped at Boyd and Jeanne's to drop off a few rutabagas and catch up on any news. As always, it was good to see the folks.

It was 9:30 before we pulled into the drive tonight. Bedtime will come shortly.

Sargie opens Friday morning. I'm to have blood work done at the hospital, part of my annual physical, so I'll be riding back with her, get blood drawn, then bring the Blazer home. I'll play the rest of the day by ear.

Time to get ready for bed as this boy is tired.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Now that's what I call a buck.
Luke sent the picture of this deer shot in my former stomping grounds, the big woods of northern Maine near the Quebec border.

November 30, 2017 - Thursday

36 degrees/cloudy/windy... again

Pentoga Road

I see the temperatures in Siberia are already reaching -70 F and lower. Ordinarily, I wouldn't care except it appears the winter of 2013 could be about ready to repeat itself.

We experienced the Polar Vortex in 2013 where the cold arctic temperatures wound their way east and plummeted down into the Midwest and East Coast. That was the year feet and feet of snow fell on Boston. 

Despite this week's warm temperatures, it's time to batten down the hatches and get ready. I have a feeling winter's about to arrive.

Wednesday brought one frustration after another. After arriving home from my walk, I began printing the last three pictures needed to complete the Christmas puzzles only to find the first was printed on the wrong paper.

With pictures finally in hand, I headed to shop and discovered I was out of laminate flooring, the material I use for backing with the puzzles.

I wasn't in the greatest of moods. What I needed was to stand in front of the lathe and turn something simple and fun, perhaps a Christmas goodie, a piece that would get my day headed in the right direction.

A snowman slowly emerged from the hunk of pine fence post mounted on the lathe. Just as I was separating it, I made a stupid error and my chisel snagged causing gouges in his base, hat, and head.

Needless to say, Mr. Snowman was cremated this morning in the wood stove.

Retirement is supposed to be fun, carefree, and relaxing. I needed to crawl out of the funk I'd put myself in. 

It was time to regroup. Start over. Think positive. Get away from the shop and Pentoga Road for a bit.

I drove to town in search of laminate flooring, hopefully, an open box that might be purchased at a huge discount. 

First came a quick visit with Yooper Brother Mark. It appears the four of us will be going to LasVegas again this spring in March. Since none of us drink or gamble to speak of, we go to people watch, walk around, gab, shop, sit in a hot tub, and soak up the warm temperatures. It's a wild, party-filled life the four of us lead.

Bidding Mark and Ann goodbye, I made my way to the lumberyard. As I was explaining why I was looking for an inexpensive, open, box of laminate flooring, a customer who was standing nearby said he was redoing his laminate floor and had all the old flooring I could ever want. He continued by saying that if I'd follow him home to Crystal Falls, I'd be doing him a favor by taking it.

That's exactly what I did.

My newest BFF in the world, Joe, helped me load enough flooring to make several lifetime's worth of puzzles. He thanked me for taking it. I thanked him for giving it to me. 

My day had finally turned around. It was time to get busy.

The rest of the day was spent in the shop. I laminated two pieces of walnut from which I hope to turn a Christmas present. 

The corners will be rounded today and the piece mounted to the lathe. It's going to be a challenge turning the very hard hickory on a mini lathe, but I'm up for it. Working with spinning hard wood is like turning a rock. Seems I have to sharpen my chisels every few minutes.

I could feel the shop vibes turning in my favor late Wednesday afternoon. Alan Jackson was crooning on the radio, it was cozy warm in the shop, and there were still a couple of hours before Sargie pulled in the drive.

Why not turn a birch bowl?

I discovered after removing all the bark that the birch was almost too spalted, soft and pithy in a couple of places. There's a point that turning soft wood is like trying to shape a roll of wet toilet paper. It takes a delicate hand with a slow approach.

The wood finally began to take shape. The pithy place was turned out of the middle and the bowl appeared to be solid. 

It was over an hour later when a coat of beeswax was applied.  

I didn't even attempt to buff the bowl last night, but rather set it aside so the beeswax could dry. I'll buff it later today to a high gloss before applying several coats of poly.

All I can think of is how much fun it will be to turn larger items once I purchase my full-sized lathe. This bowl is a bit over five inches in diameter. I can hardly wait to turn ones that are twice that size or larger.

Sargie and I had a quiet evening last night catching up on recorded programs on the DVR. She closes the Vision Center tonight meaning another solitary drive home in the dark through the north woods for my girl.

I'm heading to the shop in a bit. Yesterday began on a bad note, today will be much better. I can already feel it.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

  

An old homestead hidden away in Pentoga Village

November 29, 2017 - Wednesday

19 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Finally, after winds with gusts up to sixty mph blew through yesterday, it's calm this morning. At one point late yesterday afternoon, the artificial trees that sit on both sides of the front door blew over and that's after I'd placed two heavy bricks on the base of each. 

The galvanized bucket into which the wood stove's ashes are shoveled was full, but I was fearful of dumping it for fear there'd be a live spark which might be blown into the woods. 

I'll take a walk later today and see if any balsam trees were lost in yesterday's blow. No doubt, there'll be a few lying on their sides.

It was a lazy day we enjoyed on Tuesday. After Sargie's unexpected one day respite from the Vision Center, we weren't in any rush to do anything.

I walked to Pentoga Village yesterday morning. The temperatures were warm and it seemed more like a late spring day than one just prior to the winter season.

Fear not, I see in the extended forecast that by a week from today, temperatures will be doing well to rise out of the single numbers for highs. I've been around enough years to know that what Mother Nature giveth, she can also taketh away. In this case, the springtime temperatures.

The history of Pentoga Village continues to fascinate me. I walk around what was once the center of the community and try to imagine what it was like over a hundred years ago.

The street in front of the old home was an active thoroughfare. Now there's simply a trail that runs in front of the house. I'm told Pentoga had several businesses of the time including a church and school. Today, the old house, mostly hidden by trees and brush, is one of the few remaining structures. Unless one is looking for it, he might not know it's there.

Closer to home, I am amazed how bare the garden has become. Seems it was just a few weeks ago that the sunflowers were towering fifteen feet in the air, pumpkin and squash vines spreading everywhere, and flowers blooming in every corner.

What a difference a few weeks make. Other than the rutabaga bed, the garden is lying fallow, ready for next spring's planting.

I worked for a couple of hours yesterday on puzzles, putting the final touches on some, making plans to saw others. I'm hoping to have them all completed by week's end or the beginning of next week at the latest.

Sargie and I enjoyed our afternoon drive, going nowhere really, just making a stop here, another there, and poking our noses in other places.

We fixed the first of the delicata winter squash from this past summer's garden for supper.

Their high sugar content makes them one of the best eating squash, but also makes them poor candidates for storage. 

What goes better with winter squash than brat patties grilled outside?

Mom called last night and we had a nice conversation. She's happy that as lobby leader of her floor, she and another lady had completed the holiday decorating. 

Mom has an Indianapolis Symphony Christmas Concert to attend on the 15th of December, but said after that, she'd be ready to head north for Christmas. We'll be leaving sometime or the other soon after to get her.

Sargie opens the Vision Center this morning. I'm going for my usual walk then finish harvesting the rutabagas while the temperature is above freezing.

I hope to finish the puzzles and kiddy presents by week's end, so there's little doubt that most of today will be spent in the shop.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Grandson, Coleman, didn't score a deer this year, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

November 28, 2017 - Tuesday

44 degrees/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

In these dark, early morning hours, I want to begin today by talking about a clock.

I inherited Grandma and Grandpa's grandfather clock many years ago, something I was proud of.

The clock, housed in imitation plastic wood with works that were certainly not made in Switzerland, is not of any monetary value. A man of very modest means, I'm sure it's all Grandpa could afford when he ordered it from the Montgomery Wards catalogue and gave it to Grandma as a Christmas gift. Seems she'd wanted a grandfather's clock for many years. It stood in the corner of their home, keeping perfect time and chiming away for many years.

I remember Grandpa asking, "T Buster, you want to hear the clock chime?" 

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, the old man would reach around back of the clock, trip a lever, then stand back and smile, proudly listening to the Westminster chimes sounding throughout their home.

Mom and Dad originally inherited the clock and when they retired to Florida, it was passed on to me. I lived in Maine at the time so the folks had the clock professionally packed in a large wooden crate and loaded onto a potato shipping truck from one of our northern Maine haulers that was driving through the Midwest.

I never was successful in restarting the Montgomery Wards relic during my Maine years, but it stood tall and proud in our dining room. Honestly, I was so busy at the time working and raising sons that there was little time to worry about a clock.

When my time in Maine ended, I was in a quandary of where to keep the time piece along with other family heirlooms. The boys' mother said it would be perfectly okay to leave them where they were, that she'd look after them. It's a kindness I'll never forget.

Many years passed and eventually, the little house on Pentoga Road was purchased. I rented a U-Haul trailer and the family treasures were relocated to the UP. Mississippi Brother Garry and Miss Jody were visiting several years ago and he helped to get the time piece working again, but not the chimes. They've never worked since it's been in my possession. 

I was sitting in the living room three days ago when I decided it was time. The internet was handy and I immersed myself in everything known about Montgomery Wards grandfather clocks. I became versed on the terms, the parts, the workings, and learned once again how to mutter, swear, curse, and throw hissy fits.

Hours passed. I finally withdrew my hands from the inner workings and said a little prayer to Baby Jesus and the spirit of Montgomery Wards that maybe, just possibly, the relic might chime once again. 

Click... 

The hammers drew back and I listened as the familiar Westminster chimes sounded throughout the house. Back from the grave, Grandma and Grandpa's clock sounded memories of many years gone by.

With the chimes going off at the quarter, half, and on the hour, we have a slight problem. The clock Dad built, the one I also inherited, chimes as well.

We also have a musical clock with moving parts hanging in the same room. It seems all three sound at once. One would think Big Ben, along with a full symphony orchestra, has relocated to our dining room each and every hour. 

Sargie and I don't mind a bit.

You see, once every hour, we hear three generations of family, Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad, and Sargie and me, rejoicing in life, past, present, and future. 

It's certain that the day will come when we pass the time pieces onto our sons or even our grandchildren. Hopefully a younger family member will enjoy the chimes and music as much as we do.

I received an unexpected surprise last night when Sargie arrived home late from work with news that she doesn't have to work today. Evidently the supervisor scheduled too many people and Sargie volunteered to take the day off. 

There's been some discussion that my bride might be able to cut back to working part time. Today would be a good start.

Monday was jerky day on Pentoga Road. The marinaded venison went into the oven first thing in the morning.

Initially I was going to use the dehydrator, but when I discovered we had more than enough baking racks to fit inside several large cookie sheets, I decided to save time and utilize the oven.

It took two batches and the entire day, but by early evening, I'd packaged two gallon bags of jerky.

Sargie, an avowed non venison lover, pronounced the jerky very good. 

The rest of the day was spent making three puzzles.

Emerson

I am still experimenting with which blade works best, the best adhesive and finish, and designs, so all the pieces lock into each other. 

Ivy

Coleman's puzzle was redone as I wasn't at all happy with the first attempt. I may end up doing a couple of others over before I'm finished. 

I'm discovering even simple puzzle making is a process with a bit of a learning curve. 

Sargie was home late last night and we didn't get to bed until almost midnight. Who cares? She's off today.

I'm going for a walk this morning then work out in the shop after. I'll leave what we do this afternoon up to Sargie. No doubt we'll go for a drive then after, who knows?

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

A twenty foot tall Frosty the Snowman

November 27, 2017 - Monday

28 degrees/partly cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Happy Birthday to Little Lukie. Hopefully my second son isn't working at the S. Portland, Maine, Fire Department, where he serves as a Lieutenant. I know he'd rather be outside playing on his special day. 

I'm proud of Luke. He passed the Captain's exam and had his initial interview for the position. Luke's young and as he says, there are those who are older and have been with the department longer, but if nothing else, he said it's good experience.

Happy birthday, buddy. Sargie and I love you.

Sunday was a much slower day than any of the past several. I worked for part of the morning converting the lights of two battery operated Christmas trees to direct current using an adaptor so they could be plugged in and not battery operated. 

My shade tree electronics worked, but the teeny LED lights weren't very bright. In the end, two small strings of outdoor lights were purchased and the tree was adorned in the usual manner. They were later placed outside, one on each side of the front door.

We enjoyed a leisurely drive around the area in the afternoon and noticed some lucky hunters had found a couple of smaller bucks.

I couldn't resist taking the picture in the grocery store parking lot. Geographic's aside, the UP isn't really that much different than Alaska. I remember pulling into a village with three huge caribou loaded in my basket sled and no one giving them a second glance.

Christmas ornaments are beginning to appear on lawns around the area. Our favorites are the huge inflatable figures found on the west side of town.



Some are taller than the surrounding houses. This is the same yard where the massive Halloween village was displayed a month ago.

We hung several outside lights late Sunday afternoon. The wind had gone down and the temperature was fairly mild. It felt good to be getting some fresh air.

After a very wonderful and rare four days off, Sargie works from noon to eight today. I'm going to see how much jerky will fit in the dehydrator and begin that process. Initially, I was going to use the oven, but have opted to see how the dehydrator works first. 

I'd like to finish the grandbabies' puzzles this week and get their packages mailed. It would feel good to be able to cross those off my Christmas list. There's also a bunch of rutabagas still in the ground to pull and distribute to the Milligan Clan.

Geesh, I'm tired just thinking what all has to be done so I guess I better quit writing and get busy.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Aunt Joanne sent this picture of a Camilla bush growing outside her apartment complex not far from Atlanta, Georgia. She was sitting on her patio enjoying 64 degrees and sunshine while we were enduring a rather modest 25 degrees accompanied by a hefty wind.

November 26, 2017 - Sunday

19 degrees/clear skies/windy

Pentoga Road

I feel as though I'm sitting in a Christmas village this morning after Sargie's Herculean efforts at decorating our home the past two days. The girl sure has our little house with the red roof looking like Christmas!

Saturday morning began with a decision to make venison jerky.

Copious amounts of jerky were made when I lived in the arctic. Most was carved from caribou, but moose meat was also used. 

Caribou quarters hanging in the arctic. They are at least double, almost three times the size of deer.

 I used a deli meat slicer Saturday to be sure the meat was cut to the same thickness. The natives used to tease me about using a commercial slicer at my cabin, but once they saw how even all the slices were, the teasing stopped. I used an inverter to change the direct current supplied by the windmill over to alternating current and sliced away.

Slicing meat yesterday wasn't quite so involved. I boned and cut it into workable pieces, plugged in the slicer, and began.

The venison is now marinating in a large bowl. Placing it on drying racks over cookie sheets in the oven will be the next step.



In the arctic, I made a frame large enough to fit over the wood stove with two refrigerator grates attached. It worked quite well. In fact, I wish I had it now. I'd do the same using the wood stove in our living room.

Note the percolator coffee pot and large pot of simmering caribou stew. There was always something cooking atop the
old wood stove. 

We had several errands to attend to in town. As always, Sargie had to check out the Christmas decoration aisle in one of our local stores. 

There's something about stuffed animals that sing and dance  to bring out the child in all of us.

 We noticed that with the rain and wind of a few days ago, many of the area lakes are open once again. 



I'd have cursed the delay of ice fishing a few years ago. Now? I embrace the temporary halt to bitter, frigid, temperatures. There's something about getting older and one's blood becoming thinner that allows him to appreciate more moderate temperatures.

Back on Pentoga Road, Sargie became a decorating machine. 



From our six foot singing/dancing Santa to Aunt Ila's Christmas village being completely assembled, Sargie was today's modern Christmas decorating gal.



I wasn't much help in the decorating department, but I did cart a few thousand totes and boxes back and forth to the storage shed. I also helped the assembly process when needed.



Sargie said it was supper time. A break in the action was taken long enough to feast on the Thanksgiving leftovers.

Why, I ask, WHY do I make such a pig out of myself? I knew darn well that I'd be miserable after filling my plate to the point that sideboards would have been handy to keep the food from falling off. Someday I'll learn.

No I won't. 

Thanksgiving only comes once a year.

It was later in the evening when Sargie pronounced the house officially decorated. There are a few outside lights to hang, little things, but otherwise, we're ready for the holiday season.

Amen and amen.

I think today will be a lazy one. It's the last of Sargie's days off, the decorating is complete, and maybe we'll just take some time to enjoy Sargie and Tom.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

"Have a holly jolly Christmas, it's the best time of the year..."
Santa and I are dancing and singing a duet.
Don't even ask, but it made Sargie laugh.