Chicks, anyone?

March 4, 2018 - Sunday

27 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I was in the local farm store yesterday morning when I heard the tell-tale peeping of spring chicks. Who can resist rubbing one of the furry little critters on his cheek, then consider taking a handful of little peepers home.

I can.

It won't be long before the flock of cute and cuddly chicks turn into a hoard of patio-pooping, coyote attracting, run-down-the-middle-of-the-road, noisy, dirty, birds. 

No thanks. Been there/done that. 

Eggs you say? When we raised chickens in my former lifetime, the eggs must have cost us at least ten dollars a dozen. Between purchasing the feed and continual disappearance of both birds and eggs at the hands of coyotes, foxes, weasels, and snakes, I finally gave up any hope of raising "farm fresh eggs." 

I know commercial eggs have lighter yokes and thinner shells, but selling for well under a dollar a dozen, I can be just as happy not chasing chickens back into their coop or shooting at coyotes and other predators. 

Besides, who eats the shells anyway?

Home from Iron Mountain on Saturday morning, I decided to hike around the block. Unlike a city block, our's is just shy of seven miles in length and entails a good combination of straight aways, hills, and valleys.

Much of our snow has melted, but there's still a goodly amount left to remind us that spring has yet to arrive.

Two hours later, I removed my hiking boots, ate a bit of lunch, then reclined for a half an hour nap. 

I love this retired life I live.

One of the tires on the duel-axle wheelbarrow has been going flat nightly for the past month. It's become a habit to inflate the tire each afternoon before filling the wheelbarrow with firewood and pushing it to the house. I finally bit the bullet and purchased a new tire and tube Saturday morning while in Iron Mountain.

I had all my tire tools and was ready to pry the tire off when I saw it was a split rim. 

What a joy to be able to remove a few nuts and bolts to free the old tire and tube rather than compress, pry, tug, and cuss, the thing from the rim.

It wasn't long before the rim was split in two and the new tire mounted, aired, and back on the wheel barrow.

I love my duel axle wheelbarrow. Other than the little blue four-wheeler during the summer months, it's my most important outside tool. It not only hauls firewood all winter long, it's moved, yards and yards of top soil, rocks, and whatever else I may not be able to transport in the truck, on the trailer, or by hand.

I'd purchased a new tub (bed) for it last spring as the old one had cracked and was falling apart.

The rest of the afternoon was spent squirting lubricant on the old nuts and bolts in an effort to loosen the things. As I told Mississippi Brother Garry on the phone yesterday, I could have used a third hand. Of course, where was he? The boy was driving charter bus somewhere in SW Missouri. 

With Yooper Brother Mark in Green Bay competing in a bowling tournament, I simply had to man up and replace the tub on my own.

I wrestled with the thing for over two hours before quitting and coming inside. I'll finish today and the wheel barrow should be as good as new. I hope so. I'll need to bring in firewood before nightfall.

Being wheelbarrow challenged didn't stop me from doing some housework last night. Sargie has to work today and I didn't want her running all over the place trying to clean and dust then turn around and have to go to work.

My bride arrived home last night and we spent a relaxing evening in front of the television. She works from noon to five today, labors a full day on Monday, but thankfully, has Tuesday off. With a spring  snowstorm forecast to arrive and drop several inches about then, it appears her timing will be perfect.

I'm going for my walk this morning then come home to finish that wheelbarrow. Thankfully, I have long arms and should be able to reach around the tub to hold a wrench in one hand, a screw driver in the other.

After? There's that six inch tall bunny rabbit that's sitting on the workbench in the shop making fun of me. I'm starting to regard the unfinished hare much like one does that pint-sized star of horror flicks, Chuckie the Doll.

I've made an oath.

The rabbit will be mine. Oh yes, by all that is holy, I will complete the wooden Easter Bunny.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Whoops, it appears I missed the driveway while backing out. I well remember before we had the drive paved, it was one, huge, muddy mess every year when the snow began to melt.