July 8, 2018 - Sunday evening
77 degrees/clear skies/breezy
Pentoga Road

It's a tired boy who's writing tonight. Seems as though I spent the day going from one thing to another.

The day began as usual, in the garden, watering, weeding, and fertilizing.

With the mercury quickly rising, I made my way to the shop where the temperature was much cooler.

Hmm, what to do? I gravitated to the wood shed where I found a piece of spalted paper birch.



There's a fine, thin, line between a spalted piece of wood and one that's rotten beyond any use. The birch I chose was right on the edge.

While I was trying to rough the wood into something I could work with, a piece broke off and the wood went flying from the lathe. I almost gave up, but my persistence paid off.

Eventually, I babied it enough that I could begin work.

In the end, a spalted bowl was turned. It's nothing special or fancy, but I enjoyed making something out of a mostly rotten piece of firewood.

Sargie and I enjoyed our usual afternoon ride. We immediately noticed the designs in the fields, the results of area farmers baling hay. 

We stopped by several area lakes and observed everyone enjoying the near perfect day.

A study in wavy perspective

Sargie and I decided to go fishing later in the afternoon even though conditions were anything but prime. The wind was blowing and a couple of boats pulling water skiers made fishing difficult.

Less than perfect conditions or not, you-know-who made her presence known.

It was still warm when we pulled alongside the dock. I couldn't resist the urge to jump in the water to cool off.

Back home, we did our usual yard chores and called it an evening.



Sargie's back to work Monday morning. Vacation was fun while it lasted. 

I'm going to start walking tomorrow morning. It's time. 

No doubt, I'll play in the garden and shop. Other than that, who knows?



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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...