July 8, 2018 - Sunday morning

64 degrees/clear skies/breezy

Pentoga Road

It's unbelievable how fast the tadpoles have morphed into toads. A week ago, limbs were barely visible and all had gills and tails. Last night, we found most sitting atop the artificial lily pads in the pond planning their escape. 

I wish my brain cells would multiply as fast.

Saturday was a yawner on Pentoga Road. We'd planned to go fishing, but the wind blew hard, keeping what could have been a hot day very pleasant. 

I started the morning watering the garden.

When time permits, I enjoy watering by hand. I often hold the sprayer in my right hand while bending down and plucking a weed with my left. 

Other than the yearly fungus on the tomato plants, everything looks good. All we need is a decent all-day rain, the kind that soaks in. A million dollar rain.

The garden is beginning to get a jungle look. The sunflowers are now approaching five feet in height. 

I'm most excited about a simple bunch of grapes that have formed on one of the two year-old vines.

It's been over sixty years since I've enjoyed a good bunch of seedy, tough skinned, delicious and juicy, Concord grapes. When I was but four or fives years old, I enjoyed sitting in the old arbor eating grapes, then spitting the seeds at my sister. 

I doubt she'd like that now any more than she did back then.

Memory time. We lived on an old dairy farm in northern Illinois.

Strange. I have difficulty remembering certain events that have happened in the recent past, but I can tell you exactly where we lived:

1039 Windsor Road

Loves Park, Illinois

and our phone number was:

TRemont 4 - 0474

We moved from Windsor Road at the end of my third grade year. The old farm has been chopped up into city lots and what used to be rural country is now in the middle of the city. 

The old house is gone, the buildings demolished, the apple trees and grape arbor destroyed, but what remains firmly intact are my memories.

With acres in which to run and trees to climb, it was a little boy's paradise.

Back to Pentoga Road and 2018...

The Nanking Cherries are ripening on the two year-old bushes. I imagine they'd make good jam and the flavor's not bad. I'll let them finish ripening before passing judgement.

I spent time cleaning up bits of roots and rocks from the stump removal project.

There's little doubt that we'll be finding bits and pieces of roots for the rest of the mowing season.

It was time for our daily drive. We met several campers and boats that seemed to be heading south, people packing up and facing the hard reality that this past vacation week was quickly coming to a close.

Other's were taking advantage of the near-perfect day.

Sargie and I talked about swimming over and joining their party, acting like we knew them and belonged there. As she said, we'd have even contributed a bag of chips. 

In the end, we were content to simply watch. There's a real satisfaction in merely observing families getting together and remembering times when we were doing the same. Our time was four days ago on the Fourth of July.

Back home, I grilled pork chops while Sargie worked up a big batch of beet greens.

Other than pickled, I dislike the taste of beets, but how I love the young leaves that taste so much like spinach.

Pork chops, greens, and cottage cheese. A near perfect summer meal. All we needed were a couple of roasting ears, garden tomatoes, and a juicy, ripe, watermelon.

We were hoping the wind might go down last night so we could go fishing, but it didn't diminish until almost dark.

We moved to the shop where Sargie tried various combinations of word placements on the sign. I had one idea, she had another. In the end, her's was the best.

I worked on the background yesterday, but was unhappy with the finish. I'll sand some more today and prepare it for the final placement of the letters.

Time to move along and wander out to the garden, see what grew during the nighttime hours while we were sound asleep.

After? 

The hammock's hanging in the shade out in the backyard and I may have to utilize it to help me think deep thoughts. This retirement business isn't all fun and games you know.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Mom, Dad, and the boys.
No phones, no internet.
Just a beautiful day filled with sunshine, warm temperatures, and plenty of love.