Look! It's past ninety degrees (inside the greenhouse) |
19 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road
I was hesitant to get out of bed this morning for fear a deer might fall from the sky and land on me. I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come right out with it.
I hit a deer last night while Sargie and I were coming home from Iron Mountain.
Uh huh.
We were cruising along at 55 mph when a deer appeared out of the dark in the middle of the road. I slammed on my brakes and skidded for a mile or two, maybe eight or ten. The deer began running in the opposite direction so I increased my speed to get out of the skid when suddenly, he did an about face and ran back in front of me.
The good news is:
1. There's one less deer to hit in the future
2. Minimal damage was done to the Blazer
3. There are some happy foxes and coyotes this morning who have full bellies
The bad news?
Sargie and I are beginning to get paranoid about driving anywhere after dark. I swear, the deer from Hates are rising up to take back the north woods.
We arrived home around 9:30 last night, gathered the Kia, and left it in town to have new tires put on today. We'll pick it up Friday on Sargie's day off.
Wednesday was a busy one. After arriving home from my walk, I headed to town to confirm getting the Kia repaired with the auto body man. We're set to go, tentatively for next week. He said it will take him about three days to repair all the damage and make the car pretty once again.
I asked him what the cost would be to weld a cattle catcher onto the front, like those that were mounted on the steam locomotives in the days of old.
He laughed. I didn't.
I stopped by Yooper Brother Mark's plant and we stood outside and gabbed for a few minutes. The sun was out and the temperature warm, enough so, that some major snow was sliding from the roof of their building.
Mark doesn't have anything on us in the sliding snow department. I would hate to be stepping off our front porch when this piece finally roars to the ground.
The evil part of me wishes a deer would walk underneath and get baptized by a few hundred pounds of wet and heavy snow.
The rest of the day was spent making a path to the garden greenhouse. Initially, I tried using the snowblower, but the snow was entirely too wet and heavy. All it did was clog the machine.
Well, if I couldn't blow the stuff, I'd tramp it down.
It took a while to unlimber the bindings from my old snowshoes. I used these extensively in Alaska, mostly for emergency situations while out on the trail.
Army surplus, they were cheap, strong, and almost indestructible, and served as snow shovels when I needed to dig an emergency shelter. I also used them more than once to shuffle to the closest village in times of mechanical trouble with the snowmobile.
Whew, I can tell you this, I'm not nearly as young as I once was. After huffing and puffing across the back yard yesterday, it's hard to believe that I once shuffled almost thirteen miles through deep and powdery snow. It was a much younger and leaner man who made that trek and later, shrugged it off like it was nothing.
Oh oh... the garden gate. A large drift prevented it from opening.
I couldn't catch a break. There was nothing to do but dig and chip away the ice that had formed underneath.
Conditions didn't look much better in the garden. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the small waterfalls and pond had moved south for the winter.
What the heck. With shovel in hand, I just kept digging, right up to the greenhouse.
It was a tired, but happy and satisfied, Tommy P who walked in the house later in the afternoon. My goal was to make it to the greenhouse so that I can begin cleaning inside today.
The long arm of Sargie reaches far and she's made mention several times that the interior needs some "spiffing up" as she calls it.
When it comes to cleaning, the girl strikes fear into the hearts of even the bravest.
I left for Iron Mountain later in the day so that I could ride back with Sargie, be a kind and loving husband, demonstrate to her that striking a deer doesn't happen often and everything will be okay.
Yeah, well... so much for that b.s. theory. The last time Sargie hit a deer was seven years ago while driving home from work. Suddenly, we've taken out two in three nights.
I hear rumors that Hambone will be coming home with Grandma Sargie tonight and be with us Friday. Sargie's off, the temperature's to rise to near sixty degrees, yet, there'll be plenty of snow for the little guy to play in. Perfect.
I'm riding back to Iron Mountain with Sargie this morning to have the oil changed in the Blazer. After, it's back to Pentoga Road and spiffying up the greenhouse. If there's time left after, I'll begin transplanting the six-inch tall tomato plants from the six packs to four inch pots. After, two heat lamps will be set up to keep the tomatoes from freezing during the upcoming nights.
It's time to strap on the helmets (prevention against head injury should a deer or two fall from the sky) and think about heading to Iron Mountain. That greenhouse ain't gonna clean itself and the arm of Sargie is mighty and long.
As difficult as it is to believe, spring may have FINALLY arrived. |
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
Barbi (Sargie) had her nose buried in a computer and busy working when I arrived at the Vision Center last night. |
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