Despite three inches of rain falling in the past 48 hours, Lake Pentoga continues to recede.

April 30, 2020 - Thursday morning

39 degrees/sunny/breezy

Pentoga Road

One encouraging thing I've noticed is that most of this spring's melt water, along with the recent rains, has soaked into the ground rather than run off. 

Wednesday was another rainy affair that kept Sargie and me housebound. We took a short drive midday, but had to be content with our noses pressed against the inside panes watching the rain pour down.

I'd left the trailer at Yooper Brother Mark's plant a few days ago. He'd texted earlier saying it was full.

It's hard to believe that we're already putting up next winter's firewood. Thankfully, there are several cords left from this past year's emergency supply so we won't be processing as much as usual for next year's burning season. I like to have an extra winter's supply in reserve. You just never know.

Mid afternoon saw the last of the showers. If Carl the Weatherman can be believed, we shouldn't see any more precipitation until well into next week. 

I grew weary of being cooped up inside and headed to the shop where the last of the window grids were made for the south side of the garden house.

The windows are long and sit directly side by side. What a chore it was to make both grids look even with each other. Since they require notching, even the tiniest mistake renders the piece as unusable. Thankfully, these passed the Sargie test and I can move on.



We've been flirting with the idea of moving the large boulders (and consequent mess) that lies between Pentoga Road and the garden. I thought about tackling it with the backhoe, but most of the rocks are huge. Weeds grow in the boulder field each summer and it always looks messy.



Sargie and I talked about it and I'm going to call two or three local excavation contractors for estimates on how much it might cost to move the rocks and roughly landscape the area so it can be mowed and maintained.

 As if I don't have enough to do, I'm thinking of undertaking another project, that of making a hiking quilt to replace my old, heavy, sleeping bag. 

Only one problem, neither Sargie nor I know how to sew. I've read instructions and plans from those who have made their own and they make it sound somewhat simple. We have a sewing machine in the basement, but otherwise, that's about as close as I've gotten to becoming a seamstress, er, seamer? Seam Guy? Tailor?  Sewer? (Just what do you call a man who sews other than a fifi?) Commercial lightweight hiking quilts can cost upwards of $500, way too much money for this old retired school teacher. 

This business of getting ready to hike the Appalachian Trail in a year and a half entails a lot more than kissing Sargie goodbye and leaving for a few months. I'll have to call my trail boss, Scottie, who lives in Atlanta, for advice. No doubt, as a two-fisted, motorcycle riding mechanic, he knows everything there is to know about sewing. 

The quilt's still in the thought stage, so we'll see. 

OK, the weather's almost perfect and I'd like to get the wood unloaded before Sargie gets too active for the day. If not, she'll be out there alongside of me slinging piece after piece into the shed. My girl works hard enough around here. I hate to see her add the title of Wood Mama to her list of labors. 

But first, it's time to strap on the hikers and stroll down to Pentoga Village, see what's happening in the hood. With a population of zero, no doubt, the action is fast and furious.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Today's random Alaska picture:
Who is that young skinny guy?
No ivory tower snooty campus classroom for me.
When not traveling around the arctic, I taught my undergraduate teacher education classes to Inupiaq Eskimo natives, via solar and wind powered satellite (fairly new technology almost twenty years ago) from my cabin on the Noatak River.

The lathe is on its way!

April 29, 2020 - Tuesday morning

41 degrees/HEAVY RAIN/breezy

Pentoga Road

I feel like a little kid the week before Christmas. My lathe, my big boy Powermatic unit, is on its way. Many know how long I've waited to purchase a new lathe. I've been talking about it for what, three years or more? 

So many that I looked at just didn't feel right. I regard a lathe as an extension of one's body. I know, it sounds weird, but compare it to purchasing a car.

You see something that has visual appeal, you sit in it and it's comfortable. The engine is started and it sounds right, and finally, you drive it around the block a few times and it feels right.

During the height of my professional music-making days, I regarded several musical instruments in the same manner. I didn't have to think about what keys to push, what chord came next. Whatever instrument I was playing became an extension of my body. 

When my eye sight was failing so badly a few years ago and I was just learning to turn, I didn't need perfect vision to feel what was being created. Even today, I often close my eyes and let my fingers guide me. I find they often have a much better sense of what needs to be done than my eyes.

So my lathe's on its way. I just want to go out in the shop and clear everything out of the way, sharpen a few chisels, select the perfect wood, and get started. 

Patience has never been my virtue. It'll arrive when it gets here. Until then, take a big breath Tommy P. Patience, buddy, patience. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Rain, OMG (as the kids say) we've got not only cats and dogs falling from the sky, I swear there are a few hippos and elephants. 

Over two and a half inches of water has fallen in the past thirty-six hours and it's still pounding down. 

Even the earth worms are screaming for relief.

Thousands dot the drive, all seeking refuge from an overly saturated lawn.

I tried to work on the window grids in the shop on Monday, but making them necessitated trekking several times to the garden house for an exact fit. Getting soaked, dodging raindrops, and mucking through a muddy yard and garden isn't my idea of fun. I made a few cuts then quit. 

Sargie and I went for a ride and were delighted to see our local lake has FINALLY opened up for the year.

The only evidence of ice is directly along the shore and I imagine even that will become a distant memory following this current rain.

 We were very surprised to find the boat dock has been put back in the water for the year. It's good to see the lake is open and ready for another season of fishing.

I found this cutie pie mermaid at the lake

 Back home, Sargie was busy arranging and rearranging the downstairs bathroom medicine cabinet. She'd purchased some magnetic strips used to hang a few of the smaller metallic goodies.

While my girl was busy doing her thing, I was conducting important research via the internet in the living room. 

OK, I was watching turning and hiking videos on youtube. 

My bride was a girl possessed. The next thing I knew, Sargie Crocker was busy in the kitchen. Yesterday's culinary magic consisted of all kinds of seafood. 

Seafood Alfredo. One of my favorites!

Those piles are all seafood to be added. We like a noodle or two with our meat.

 I just finished talking with Jambo on the phone. He's back in Marquette doing what we're all doing, waiting for the rain to stop. Jambo volunteered to price pine boards to make board and batten siding on the garden house. I suspect it might be a bit too pricey for what we're able to spend, but who knows. We may go with a textured plywood siding for now and add battens later. 

Like most, Sargie and I are still looking for that tree, you know, the one that money grows on. 

Today. Hmm, it's just too wet to consider doing anything outside. There are several things that might be accomplished indoors, but do I really want to do them? Being lazy, reclining by the wood stove, and snuggling under a blanket, on a chilly, rainy, dark, day is so much easier.

After all, according to our governor, who is obviously auditioning for Joe Biden's running mate, I'm elderly, vulnerable, and unable to make my own decisions. 

Then there are some turning chisels I can sharpen and things to move out of the way in the shop to make ready for the new lathe. 

Boom! 

I'll let someone else play that vulnerable, elderly card. Me? I've got things to do.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Today's random Alaska picture:
THAR SHE BLOWS!
I often found myself surrounded by humpback whales, some up to forty feet long, while fishing in SE Alaska

At least it's rain and not snow

April 28, 2020 - Tuesday morning

39 degrees/foggy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I had a dream early this morning that almost turned into a nightmare. 

I was standing in front of the kitchen pantry with the door wide open. Sargie was mad as wet hen, telling me that I'd better find the canned chicken breast and find it NOW.

Chicken breast? What chicken breast?

I told her that I'd not had her chicken. Looking at me in a disbelieving manner, she accused me of taking several cans out to the shop. 

No amount of persuasion could convince my normally good natured Sargie that I'd not stolen her chicken. I enjoy an occasional snack in the shop, usually a hastily plucked apple or a handful of grapes, but canned chicken? Just not my thing.

Tired of her berating attitude accompanied by yelling and screaming, my delicate ego, now severely bruised, could take no more. I told my fire breathing wife that she could find her own darn canned chicken.

That's when it all hit the fan.

She walked close, got in my face, and in a hushed whisper threatened, "If you walk away from this pantry, I'll never cook for you again."

Thankfully, there is a God. I woke up, the birds were singing outside our bedroom window, and the decision to walk away from the pantry was taken out of my hands.

In an attempt to shake the cobwebs from my brain, I raised up on one elbow and looked over at my beautiful slumbering Sargie, a slight smile on her face. The girl was obviously enjoying a deep, uninterrupted, sleep.

It was a dream, only a stupid dream. 

Still.

Only one question. Who took the canned chicken? 

Speaking of food, with rain pounding down late Monday morning, we had a wonderful, low calorie, brunch.

The rich (in spirit) people on Pentoga Road were enjoying pancakes, eggs, bacon, blueberries, all smothered in homemade maple syrup. Beat that IHOP!

Sargie and I enjoyed a nice, albeit, rainy drive around the countryside after. Neither of us felt too energetic and were happy to be that old couple, the ones that others drive up behind and swear at because they are cruising at a hair splitting thirty mph, rubber necking, and gawking at the ice conditions on the local lakes.

I can't remember a severe wind in the recent past, but we observed several downed trees, the result of storm damage. 

Back home, we threw another log on the fire and watched a couple of videos while snuggling under a blanket on the couch. 

It was a stress filled afternoon. With Sargie's head lying on my shoulder and mine resting against the top of her head, our eyelids soon grew heavy.

What video? I can't seem to remember any, but I know they played.

I did make my way out to the shop later (sans canned chicken) and worked on the vase/bowl/whatever-you-call it. Playing with pigment and epoxy, I tried my hand at inlaying colored accent rings. 



Using an old, discarded pine fence post from which to fashion the bowl, it wasn't really the right kind of wood for such a thing, but I learned quite a bit in my first attempt. I didn't finish it like I normally would and unhappy with a blah, pine, color, I used dark stain in an attempt to make the thing come to life. As they say on HGTV, I wanted it to "flow and pop." 

I'm not certain it did either.



The day ended with my usual walk to Pentoga Village and back. Sargie and I enjoyed leftovers for supper in front of the tv.

I'm going to get this uploaded and go for a stroll. My goal today is to remake the set of grids for the south side windows in the garden house. As I told Mississippi Brother Garry, I don't know who measured for the first set, but since I was the only one with a tape measure, it must have been me.

Spring's definitely in the air. The peonies are beginning their annual upward migration.

Time to move along and get this day started.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Today's random Alaska picture:
One of my Inupiaq student teachers, Florence Hadley. Florence was from the village of Buckland, Alaska, approximately seventy five very treacherous miles south of Kotzebue.

Wait a cotton pickin' minute.
What do these wild ducks think, that I run a wildlife sanctuary on Pentoga Road?

April 27, 2020 - Monday morning

31 degrees/partly cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Now that the weather has warmed and spring is upon us, I'm awakened in the predawn hours by the sounds of wild mallards wafting through our open bedroom window. They seem to be having a good time, quacking and splashing in the garden pond.

Thankfully, the noisy birds don't leave any mess and are usually gone shortly after sunrise. I'm wondering if they're using the pond as a safe place to spend the night away from any marauding foxes or other predatory critters?

These past few days have been near perfect in the weather department. Sargie and I have been busy in the yard or garden and with Hambone's help, have accomplished what we set out to do.

I did spend one rainy day readying the shop for the arrival of the new lathe. It will go where the old one currently sits. Part of one morning was spent making a chisel holder from two scrap pieces of PVC pipe, just something to safely keep them out of my way when I'm turning.

I've continued working on the inside and outside of the garden house, building this and fixing that. Jambo has been down to measure for siding and the Dutch door he's building.

Seems no matter what I do with the garden house, it entails (as Sargie says) ciphering. For a boy who flunked Algebra twice and finally passed sophomore Geometry the last semester of his senior year of high school, it's no small feat.

The giant pumpkin was growing in leaps and bounds and needed to find a new home.

The stem was becoming long and leaning every which way. Thankfully, the weather finally warmed enough that I could transplant it outside within the confines of the Walls of Water where it's quite happy and growing.

Hambone's been with us the past several days. Poor kid, stuck in the house with Mama and Daddy who are working from home, nothing to do but be home schooled and... sigh, whatever it is that a five year old boy can do when cooped up inside day in and day out.

Since our lives tend to revolve around the outdoors, Grady was more than happy to escape the confines of four walls and join Grandma Sargie and Pawpaw on Pentoga Road.

Getting the idea from Mississippi Brother Garry and Miss Jody, we tried to make a brick, one from concrete with Grady's name imbedded within.



Unfortunately, it was done on the spur of the moment and the only concrete I had was old, hard, and had way too much gravel in the mix. Still, we had fun trying and Hambone learned how to mix concrete and what makes it work.

Spring finally arrived last Friday and once the temperature reached 55 degrees, I sprinted to the house and changed from jeans to shorts. Let the good times roll!

Don't even go there

Grandma Sargie's been a raking machine these past several days and has the yard looking beautiful.

Thankfully, she had occasional help in the form of Hambone.

The boy's getting to the size and age now that he's really good help. Occasionally, his attention span waxes and wanes, but he isn't slow to pitch in and help either of his grandparents.



We were playing Question of the Day one evening on Alexa and Grady learned about the Earth's three layers, the crust, mantle, and core. When the boy wasn't helping one of us or trying to net goldfish from the pond, he was digging a hole in the garden, in the "Erf," as he called it. 

Hambone has it all figured out that once the core is reached, he and Pawpaw will build a heat exchanger to pipe the warmth into the pond (making for warmer swimming) and the house.

I keep wondering, where does a five year old come up with that? I was sixty before I learned there was such a thing as a heat exchanger, let alone know what one does.

Speaking of a cold pond, it didn't keep Hambone from dipping his piggies in the water.



Required to wear a life jacket at all times when within the confines of the garden, he loves playing around the water's edge. What kid doesn't?

Sand, a pond, dirt in which to dig, plucking worms from the ground to feed the goldfish, trucks, buckets, and other boyhood tools of the trade, Grady's the happiest when he's outside and busy. He seems just as content to be with his grandma or me or if we're busy, he entertains himself with one project or the other.

Watching Grady and how happy and inquisitive he was playing around the water, I quickly realized that last summer's efforts while digging the pond were all worthwhile. That big ol' hole in the ground paid for itself many times over this past weekend.



With near perfect weather, I raked and landscaped the large berm that goes around the backside of the garden.

Boy oh boy, that was some chore, but I finished it after two full days of shoveling and raking. We purchased grass seed, both annual rye and perennial bluegrass and fescue, when we took Grady home late Sunday afternoon and I sowed and raked it in last night, finishing just before dark.



The circulating pond pump needed to be adjusted as the output was pushing against the four inch intake pipe that feeds it. No matter how much talking I did, I couldn't get Sargie to wade into the very cold water to move the pipe.

Hambone was willing, but he lacked the strength. It was time to strip down and put Pawpaw the Claw into action and use his super hero powers.



The trick was to make the adjustment while standing on the edge of a sloping shelf in three feet of water without continuing on into the eleven and a half foot abyss. 

No thanks to the laughing Sargie and Hambone, I looked cold water in the eye and escaped unharmed with only my delicate ego slightly damaged. 

Sargie spent much of Sunday working around the  the pond, placing the rocks that I'd raked from the berm, around the edge to make it look more natural.

Before we're finished, there'll be logs, plants, planters, and natural growth mixed in with the rocks and around the sides, but we have to begin somewhere.

There's been a boulder in the front yard that when I first bought our home, barely stuck above the ground. I could easily mow over it without nicking the blade of the mower.

As the years have progressed, the frost has pushed the boulder upwards and finally, we've had to mow around it for the past two or three years. I tried to dig it out several years ago and found the other end was buried somewhere around the Great Wall of China. 

It was time to bring out the big guns.

 It took well over half an hour to even budge the thing and was so heavy that it brought the rear of the back hoe several feet off the ground while lifting it from the hole.



Rather than bring in load after load of fill, I dug the hole even deeper and buried the boulder well under the surface of the ground. As of now, the area is raked and grass seed sown. It won't be long before the boulder is forgotten and Sargie's lawn is back to normal.



I'm heading out for my walk before the rain begins. With a hundred percent chance of precipitation over the next forty eight hours, it looks as though it's going to be a shop day. I want to remake the window grids for the panes on the south side of the garden house and there's a bowl I've been turning to finish.

Other than that, without the energy of a five year old boy who is his Pawpaw's shadow, there could be some real potential for an afternoon nap.



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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Today's random Alaska picture:
Taken from the bow of my Nimble Nomad boat, one of Southeast Alaska's many snow covered peaks.