For those who INSIST on calling the garden house a... ahem, she shed, the proof is in the sign.
It's official. It's a garden house!

June 25, 2020 - Thursday morning

46 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Sargie gave me the garden sign for my birthday. The next question is, where to hang it? It'll either end up over the arch at the entrance to the garden or above the door on the garden house. 

Wednesday was a busy one. Carl promised there'd be no rain, but naturally, as soon as I arrived home from my early morning walk and began painting, huge drops began to fall.

It was a mixture of sun and clouds for the rest of the morning. Thankfully, the overhang protected the freshly painted areas and we could proceed between showers.

Sargie and Hambone soon joined me. With Mini Me wearing one of my old t shirts and a pair of vinyl gloves, both were painting machines.

I climbed the ladder, covering the higher areas and around the trim. Grandma Sargie and Grady did those places that were easier to reach.

Since Pawpaw was using a ladder, Hambone had to do the same. He quickly commandeered the step stool and spent much of the morning perched on one of the two steps.

We were chatting away when Hambone forgot where he was and took a step backwards into the roller pan filled with paint.



Other than a couple of painted footsteps on the drive, nothing was any worse for the wear. Grandma Sargie quickly came to the boy's rescue and using the hose, sprayed the paint from his foot and shoe.

I've made the conscious decision that I'm going to try to enjoy this painting experience and in doing so, will only do a section a day. It didn't take long before the side of the garage was finished and we called it quits. We'll continue today on the back of the garage and the patio side before stopping.

The official name of the color is Tuxedo, a dark charcoal gray

I've discovered in the past couple of years that I've become terribly fearful of heights. It all began when I took the twelve foot plunge from the barn roof two winters ago. 

Where I once walked all over the roof of the large two story farm house in northern Maine, I'm now afraid to climb around the relatively low heights of our Pentoga Road home. 

I told Sargie it must be age. She said it's wisdom.

Whatever the reason, I'm going to hire someone to paint the upper reaches of our home. In total, they shouldn't take more than an hour. None are that high nor are they horribly dangerous. I'm just no longer comfortable climbing that high. 

At our insistence, Hambone brought his bicycle from home. At age six, it's time the boy learn how to ride. Grandma Sargie and I took turns running alongside, pushing the boy down the slight incline of the front yard.

Hambone would rather not learn. I'm told he gets his resistance to two wheeled transportation honestly.

Sargie said his daddy didn't want to learn either. At her firm insistence, Macrea conquered his fears and went on to successfully peddle through his childhood and well into his university years.

Hambone crashed and burned more than once yesterday and each time told us he wasn't going to get back on. 

Grandma Sargie had other ideas.

Finally, as she ran alongside at a neck breaking speed while holding onto the back of the bike seat, Hambone broke free of her grip and began peddling on his own. 

The boy did well until he realized he was doing it all by himself and crashed.

We'll continue with Hambone's bike riding lessons this afternoon. He's almost there.

I began experimenting making different types of trim in the shop for the garden house Wednesday afternoon. Sargie and I decided a simple trim of 1x4 pine boards looked the best. One corner was completed and I'll be getting more lumber to finish the rest.

It was Sargie who first held up the Garden sign over the door. On the house or at the entrance to the garden? Only time will tell. Right now, I'm leaning towards the entrance.

Hambone disappeared for a bit. Suddenly, he popped out of the shop and yelled for Pawpaw to come and see what he'd been doing.

He'd swept all the sawdust left on the floor from cutting the trim.

 Hambone loves to be in the shop, loves the smell of wood, and is typically creative. It'll be a few years until he graduates from gluing and painting popsicle sticks to using any machinery, but I hope to instill the love of woodworking into the boy during his formative years.

It's daylight and time to go for my walk. With a high of 80 forecast, I want to finish painting the garage before it becomes too hot. Also on the agenda is to begin trimming out the garden house windows and possibly work on the fascia. 

I promised Hambone that we'd go swimming at the boat landing on our local lake this week. He considers swimming in the pond mere child's play, but oh, the lake, now that's big boy stuff. Bone has worked hard this week and has earned a trip to the boat landing. 

It's time to get the day started.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Hambone discovered the honeyberries and like his grandma, loves to graze in the orchard and garden.