I think it's safe to say the snowmobiling season is about over for the year.

 April 6, 2019 - Saturday morning
37 degrees/cloudy/calm winds
Pentoga Road

It may be warm this morning, but is it ever dark and gloomy. Carl the Weatherman is promising the rainy weather will continue on through the weekend. 

Don't let that field deceive you. Under that bare surface lies a monster of mud, just sitting there, waiting to suck the boots off your feet.

I hate mud season, always have. It's the reason I began sugaring during the dark days of spring many many years ago, to give the sons and I something to do in the evenings. The kids at school were crazy, the teachers not much better. I know my mood was foul and it seemed all anyone thought about was the bright, warm, days of summer that lay ahead.

Nothing's changed over the years.

I need to take the carburetor off the engine on the backhoe, but I can't even get to it without sinking to my knees in the glop. The snowmobile needs to be moved towards the storage container, but it would plow mud and leave ruts the entire way.



The ground is beginning its annual heave as the frost fights towards the surface. Parts of the paved drive have dropped by two inches and even the front porch is heaving up and down making the railing and roof uneven. It should settle back into place in a few weeks, but as with everything in life, there are no guarantees. 

Ah, mud season. It's enough to drive a person crazy.

Speaking of crazy, things went well in the bob kitty den yesterday. Several of the sixth grade boys were feeling their oats early on, but after a man to boy talk in the first hour, they settled down for the day and education prevailed at Florence Elementary.

I need to remember that I'm not the only one going a bit stir crazy with this elongated mud season. 

Back home by mid afternoon, I changed from my city boy clothes into my grandpa duds, strapped on the hiking boots, and made my way to Pentoga Village. There's nothing like a good walk to put one's frame of mind right where it ought to be, at home on Pentoga Road.

Poor Sargie didn't walk in the door until past 9:30 last night. We had a short evening together as I was exhausted from my day with the kidlings. She needed to unwind, so I kissed my bride goodnight and made my way up the stairs. It was 1 AM before she joined me and past 2 before dropping off to sleep. I don't look for her to get out of bed too early this morning.

Today. What to do, what to do. Should I make my way to the shop and work on the St. Bernard? I could begin work on the garden house wall in the barn, or perhaps, go for an early morning walk. 

So many decisions, so little of me. If only you had my life, you'd understand. 

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

After a hard winter, things are a bit crooked on the corner of Pine and Forest in Pentoga Village, population zero.