The march towards summer continues. The honey berry bushes are beginning to leaf out.

March 2, 2018 - Wednesday evening

45 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I figured I'd write tonight while waiting for Sargie to arrive home after a long day of working. 

Today's been a busy one. Once again, I skipped my daily walk so I might get an early start working in the barn. 

My first chore was to finish insulating the shop from above. Since I have plenty of insulation, I decided to shove pieces in every nook and cranny. It's much easier to do it now than find out there are leaky places on a cold and windy January day.

I began the long job of trying to figure out where everything should go in the barn. Much has gone up over the new addition, but there are items that I don't often use, but like to be able to see.

Room was made along the north wall for the nut and bolt bins. 

The next chore was a big one. I needed some shelves. What could be better than to hang an entire set of them, an old bookcase!

It was a bit tricky balancing a fairly heavy piece of furniture with one hand while ascending a ladder, then holding it in place long enough to temporarily screw the thing to the wall until I could fasten it permanently.

Since the ladder will be a necessity to retrieve anything from the shelves, I'll put those things needed, but not often used, on the higher ones.

I needed a break. It was slow going and I was tired of going up and down a ladder. What better way to relax than a trip to the local dump? Oh, that's right. The 21st Century term is "transfer station."

There were a couple of garbage cans in the back of the Blazer, but I really wanted to include the large ten bushel wheelbarrow bed that had cracked earlier this winter.

Try as I may, it wouldn't fit. Only one way to skin this kitty. Cut the thing down the middle.

From the dump, I went on into town where a ribeye steak was purchased for dinner. I'd heard an advertisement on the radio from our local grocery and had made up my mind that since Sargie had to work late (she's not a steak lover) that I would dine in luxury this evening.

I stopped at the lake on the way home to check the ice conditions. It's getting really dark and I look for breakup to happen at any time.

I well remember conditions like these while living in the Arctic. The last time I spent a late spring at the cabin, the ice was like this and I really needed to get to the village. I took off as fast as possible, scooted across open water onto solid ice, then zoomed to the village.

With the temperatures growing warmer and the ice diminishing by the minute, I did my business, said a quick prayer to Baby Jesus, and raced back to the cabin seventeen miles up river. The ice went out the next day.

Back home, I tackled the wood bin, the place where those pieces that aren't really good enough to save, yet too good to throw away, are kept.

Over two hours was spent sawing wood small enough to make kindling for the wood stove.

I rewarded myself this evening with a great steak cooked over charcoal. I'll brag. It was to die for good.

It's time to end. Sargie should be pulling in the drive at any minute and we'll have an entire day's worth of nonstop action to catch up on.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

The lake ice pulling away from the shore