Photo by Sargie
Sometimes a simple picture of the sky on a near-perfect day is enough. The pallet of brilliant colors included black, green, red, white, and blue.

 May 7, 2020 - Thursday morning
32 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

Wednesday turned out to be somewhat of a bust. It seemed no matter what I tried to accomplish, some sort of roadblock popped up to block my way.

The usual morning walk was skipped in favor of visiting a local farmer who sells composted top soil. 

At least he used to.

I arrived at the farm and immediately noticed a for sale sign out by the road. Undaunted, I proceeded up the drive and to the house and found he no longer is in the business. I guess we all get tired and eventually call it quits. Don, who is on the downhill slide to eighty years of age has decided to lead a less active lifestyle.

Back home, Jambo stopped to bid me farewell. They are returning to their home in Marquette, but he promised to be back in a few days. While Jambo was here, he helped me to add the extension onto the bed of the new lathe. I held the thirty-five pound monster while he bolted it into place.

I later discovered I was missing three small, but vital pieces to actually use it. The box had just been opened, so I knew the pieces hadn't been laid aside and misplaced.

Jambo and I talked for a bit and we both decided with nighttime temperatures forecast to barely reach out of the teens this next week, planting delicate flower bulbs might be risky, something I'd planned to do on Wednesday. No sense rushing the season. A week one way or the other isn't going to make that big of a difference.

The lathe was calling to me. I just wanted to mount a piece of wood and watch it go around, possibly stick a chisel in the mix and make something.

I surrendered to temptation. 

Downright gleeful, I tried to attach my current chuck, the one I've used for the past several years, only to find that it wasn't made for a large lathe. In fact, it was made for the purpose of turning pen blanks and very small bowls.

I called the company and asked for an adaptor. They told me they didn't have one made to go from an inch and a quarter spindle down to a three-quarters of an inch opening.

Well, that wouldn't do. While on the phone, I ordered a full sized chuck and adaptor for my lathe. It's especially made to handle big, heavy, jobs.

Sargie and I took a quick ride to town and I purchased parts that I hoped might adapt my smaller chuck to the new lathe. I got the wrong sizes.

Back home, Sargie picked up her trusty rake and headed to the rear of the barn. She found literally, decades, of treasures back there, pieces of metal, broken glass, rotten wood, and other semi gross goodies too numerous to mention. It, along with other areas of the property, had been used for years as a dump.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

I'd planned on tilling the raised beds, but wanting to be near Sargie so we could talk while working, I began dismantling a large wooden box I'd built several years ago and rebuilding a flower planter of the same vintage. Both were sitting on the far side of the barn.

It was hot. The barn blocked any wind and the sun was beating down. We took off our coats then later, switched from long to short sleeved shirts.

After several hours of hard labor without a break and drinking little water, Sargie said she didn't feel good. Truth be known, neither did I. We were all done in. It was time to quit.

I've been itching to set up my new ultra light tent. Weighing only twenty two ounces, it uses titanium stakes. Hiking poles replace conventional tent poles.

A cottage industry, the designer told me that there was a bit of a learning curve, but once I'd practiced setting it up a few times, it took only a matter of minutes, even in a driving wind and rain storm.

Initially, I had it inside out, upside down, and just about every other way it could be set up and still not right.

Thankfully, Sargie has some common sense and helped me navigate through the initial difficulties. 

Practice makes perfect and I got close to having it right. Honestly, I was so tired by the end of the day that I'd have slept in a paper sack rather than extend any more effort learning how to properly set up my new backpacking tent.

Sleek and low, bug, wind, water, and snow proof, each side zips open and there's a full bug screen with a bathtub floor inside.

I still hadn't gone for my daily walk. Sargie was getting ready to hop in the shower, so I strapped on my hikers and made it about 3/4's of a mile down the road before my tank ran completely dry. I turned around and shuffled back home. 

As I keep reminding Mississippi Brother Garry in his haste to conquer the world, "We ain't no spring chickens no more!"

I'm happy to say that with showers, a good supper, and a full night's sleep, both Sargie and I are hitting on all cylinders this morning.

It's time for my walk to Pentoga Village. Today's agenda includes rebuilding a couple of flower boxes, dismantling one, tilling the garden, and solving the secret of perpetual motion and if there's time, eternal youth.

I may not be a spring chicken, but in these early morning hours, I'm feeling like a young rooster. 

I'll be rebuilding this flower box later today

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Today's random Alaska picture:
Sitka, Alaska
While still allowed, I used to feed Earl the sea lion fish scraps from the back of my boat. The practice was later outlawed and all fish cleaning had to be done at floating stations outside of the harbor area.