February 1, 2019 - Friday night

12 degrees/partly cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Once again, I'm waiting for Sargie to get off work, so I figured I might as well take computer in hand and begin today's blathering. 

Twelve degrees feels warm tonight. Stop and think that thirty six hours ago, it was -32, so we're currently 44 degrees warmer. It's a heat wave. The warmest temperature I saw today was 16. With the sun out and the wind fairly calm, I almost fell asleep while sitting in the sun in front of the garage, soaking up the near tropical heat. 

I was out of the house early this morning building a fire in the outdoor wood furnace.

Each time I see smoke rising from a flue on a cold winter morning, I'm reminded of Grandpa. He and Grandma lived on a lake deep in the woods of northern Minnesota. 

Grandpa's best friend was Milt. Now Milt and Grandpa weren't just best buddies, they did everything together, including making moonshine. 

Having a bank lose what little money they had during the depression, Grandpa disliked any form of government control. The old man especially didn't care if making alcohol was legal or not. He was an American and by golly, the last he knew it was still a free country. 

Grandpa always had a fondness for alcohol in any form. After promising Grandma years before that he was done drinking, they played a game that lasted for decades, right to his death. 

Grandpa'd keep a bottle hidden in the woodpile that he occasionally visited. Grandma acted as though she thought he really was checking on the wood supply. 

Grandpa? Why after returning from from visiting the next winter's fuel source, sugar wouldn't have melted in his mouth.

Meanwhile, back to Grandpa and Milt:

When Grandpa and Milt were boiling mash during the winter months in northern Minnesota, a long spiral of smoke could be seen from far away accompanied by the aroma of homemade bread. It wasn't bread Grandpa and Milt were making. It was shine. Good old fashioned, rot gut, moonshine.

To this day, when I see a long spiral of smoke on a cold winter morning, I think of Grandpa. Bless his heart, I loved the old man and still miss him, woodpile and all.

Most of Friday was spent in a nice, warm, shop. Nothing could be done until I cleaned. Talk about a mess. Nails from the pallets were all over the floor. There's no better way to pick them up than with a magnet.

I began my first intarsia piece. It involves using the scroll saw, some carving, sanding, and lots of imagination. I found a pattern of a goldfish I particularly liked, so it was printed and glued to a board. The sawing began afterwards.

Each piece has to be sanded in some manner. I found I used the oscillating sander the most.

The goldfish should be finished tomorrow. I'm going to sand a bit more, then paint and mount it to a backing board.

I have no idea what I'll do with it. Once again, quoting Joanna Gaines, "It's a fun little thing." 

I took a break and ventured into town. Yooper Brother Mark and I spent a few minutes catching up then I made my way to the bank. 

Back home, I tried my newest tool, an attachment that fits onto an angle grinder and used for hollowing out bowls in unconventional wood.

I played with it a bit this afternoon, roughing out a bowl in a birch log in about three minutes. 

The log was a trial run, but already my imagination is running wild what could be done with this new tool.

I'd brought in the fish Mike and I caught last week to thaw this morning. They've been packed away in snow and frozen solid. I think Sargie and I might have a fish fry Saturday night.

These were some of the biggest bluegills I've caught in a long time. The biggest was a bit over ten and a half inches.

It's time to wrap this up and get ready to take the Kia to town. All the parts came in and Mechanic Dave said he could put it back together this weekend.

Sargie's off tomorrow. I plan to work in the shop most the morning and then see what Sargie has planned for the afternoon.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Bits and pieces of spruce branches are lying on top of the snow from the strong winds of the past several days