My BFF's, Elise, and her mommy, Amelia Bedelia, came to visit Auntie Sargie and Uncle Tom yesterday

December 27, 2019 - Friday morning

30 degrees/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

It looks to be another cloudy, windy, dreary, day ahead. Our current weather pattern is more like that of Sitka (Alaska) than the UP. It's fairly warm, but not a pleasant warm. It's wet, windy, foggy, and feels more like a miserable spring melt than early winter.

We had much the same weather last winter and many, including me, had hopes that it might carry through into spring.

That didn't happen.

We had record snowfall and bitterly cold temperatures beginning in January that lasted into late spring. I'm fearful that pattern may repeat itself this year.

I took my five mile walk Thursday morning. Foggy? Lord, it was soupy.

There was also a thin sheen of ice covering everything which made walking a bit dicey. It took some real effort to keep from falling on my backside.

The majority of the day was spent cleaning the drive. Despite my best efforts to plow the pavement bare, another inch or two of snow had accumulated then been driven over time after time. With the warm temperatures, the ice and snow came up fairly easy.



Up to an inch of rain is predicted to fall this weekend, followed by the possibility of heavy snow and cold temperatures. Might as well kiss the bare pavement goodbye. It looks to be one of those kinds of winters.

While shoveling, I felt, rather than saw, something/someone watching me. Sargie was working and there wasn't another soul around.

I looked behind me. There was a pigeon, sitting on the porch rail just a few feet away, watching and observing my every move. Over the next several minutes, the bird followed me everywhere and several times let me get close to stroke its feathers.

I've never seen a pigeon on Pentoga Road before, especially one that was tame.

Strange.

You know, I've worked with native cultures enough years to know that all believe those who have passed on often come back to occasionally visit in the form of wildlife, animals, or birds. 

I talked and petted the pigeon for sometime  before saying goodbye and watching it fly away.

I believe that God gives us exactly what we need when we need it, even if it is a lowly, overly friendly, barnyard, pigeon.



The doorbell rang. I bounced into the front room to find Amelia and Elise had come to visit. Jambo and Germaine's daughter has always been good about stopping by to see us.



Elise is a one year old ball of belly laughs. It's been a long long time since I've seen a little one that is as happy as this little girl. We played and visited for some time and hated to see them leave.

We're told that Grandma, Jambo's mother in law, is doing somewhat better after her massive stroke. Her eyes are open and she is able to swallow small amounts of very soft food and liquid. I heard that Grandma's eyes absolutely came to life when Amelia took Elise to see her great grandmother. 

It was almost dark when I looked out the living room window and saw....

"A partridge in a pear tree!"

OK, there were up to seven partridges in a maple tree, but they had the right idea. I told Jambo time and time again last hunting season that we had gajillions of partridges, but could he find them?

Noooo.

Oh well, baring a horrible winter, next season's crop should be bigger and better.



It's time to head out the door for my morning stroll. Between walking in the mornings and peddling the stationary bike in the evenings, I'm getting plenty of exercise. Unfortunately, with the metabolism of a dead rock, this losing weight thing is going to be a long, drawn out, process. 

Of course, not eating so much might be beneficial.

That's okay. I have a year and a half before I begin the Appalachian Trail.

We'll be going to town later today to get Sargie's car with the new remote starter. Mike wants to go ice fishing if the wind doesn't blow us off the lake, and who knows what else might happen? Hard to tell. There's seldom a dull moment here in Maple Valley. (Be sure to read under the last picture below.)

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Maple Valley? Sargie and I decided that if every house on HG TV can have a name, so can our's. Granted, most sell for the hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not millions, but if those hoity-toity people can name their homes, so can we. 

Ain't nobody gonna put Baby in the corner.