Still in their early stages, it appears as though we'll have grapes this year

July 23, 2020 - Tuesday morning

57 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

It's a sad one this morning. I just received word from my cousin, Penny, that Uncle Bill, the last of the "Greatest Generation" in our family passed away last night.

Mom's baby brother, Uncle Bill (NEVER Bill, ALWAYS Uncle Bill in our family) was quite the character. A heavy drinker and smoker of non filter cigarettes in his younger days, he was a farmer/rancher and showed cattle all over the US. For a living, he sold farm related accessories in some form or the other and was the toughest, kindness, most gentle soul I ever knew.

The man was a professional salesman and good one at that. Dad used to say that Uncle Bill could sell hell back to the devil.

I believe he could have.

Uncle Bill had two complete lives, one in Illinois and Iowa that included Aunt Pete (Phyllis) and fathering five children before he quit drinking, the other as the step father to two daughters and two sons after he married Aunt Sue and settled in southwest Missouri. 

Both Aunt Pete and Aunt Sue passed away years ago. Blind and in failing health, Uncle Bill continued to live on the farm raising cattle with his former son in law who helped with his care. A step son also assisted. 

So, the last of Mom and Dad's generation has gone home to be with his family and that's as it should be. Blind and riddled with cancer, Uncle Bill is at peace now, no doubt out in the barn or corral, rounding up his beloved cattle, and as he often said, "Doin' chores."

Page two:

I received notice that my Fuji pocket camera has finally been shipped from the repair facility in New Jersey. It's due to arrive this Thursday.

Taking random snapshots has been a challenge these past six weeks. Used to pulling a camera from my pocket and snapping a picture in one smooth motion, I occasionally suffer from Walter Mitty moments and picture myself as Wyatt Earp handling his six shooter during a showdown in Tombstone. 

Since sending my old camera in for repair, I been using the one on my old iPhone. As a phone, it works well. The camera is another story. You don't use a squirt gun to put out a five alarm fire, do you? 

Though she's an excellent photographer, I hate depending on Sargie to snap a photo as many of those that make the website are taken in the spur of the moment. Though only a few are used, I've been known to take up to seventy five pictures in a single day. Take enough pictures, one's bound to be a keeper.

Unless I'm on a formal photo shoot, hauling around the large Nikon SLR camera strapped to my neck isn't really an option. (A photo shoot? Really?)

Thursday can't get here soon enough.

Monday morning was spent in the shop working on more puzzles for the grandbabies. There are several I've started in the past with good intentions, but were shoved to the side in favor of more challenging projects. 

Growing tired of horses, elephants, and chickens, at least in the wooden form, I made my way to the orchard and picked a bowl of honeyberries.

We enjoy eating them fresh, adding the berries to cottage cheese, salads, or simply popping a few in our mouths as we walk by the kitchen counter.

Sargie and I had a nice ride on Monday afternoon. The lakes are all full to overflowing with the surrounding woods looking as though they are a backdrop to the Emerald City.

The rest of my afternoon was spent patching the drive, filling in the cracks left behind by last spring's frost heaves.

Preparing the drive for next winter is a three step process. After ensuring it's clean, a filler is melted into the crack using a propane torch, supposedly one that binds the two sides of the pavement together. After comes the regular blacktop patch and finally, the entire drive is sealed.

When my knees grow weary, I simply flop on my backside. It may not be as graceful, but is much easier on the body.

We made the Hambone exchange last evening. He'll be with us the rest of the week.

The Bone was growing restless last evening so I asked my pint-sized buddy if he'd do me a favor and put all the puzzles together that I've made, to be sure they fit and no pieces had been lost between the shop and house.

Grady would have done that all night if I'd not run out of puzzles.

 He also said that he'd help me paint those that are bound for his cousins on the East Coast. 

 Hambone had to show us an experiment last night. He claimed that putting Skittles into water on a shallow plate produced a rainbow.



He also said that though each piece turned white, they still kept their individual fruity flavor. 

Helping to scoop them from the water, Grandma Sargie confirmed the flavor was, indeed, in the candy, not the coating that had long melted away.

My life is richer for knowing that.

I want to show you the cover of the birthday card that Jambo and Germaine gave me last week. The print was composed entirely of bluegills, one of our favorite fresh water fishes. The artist lives in Marquette, just an hour and a half away.

With showers in the forecast, I'm not at all certain what today will bring. I think I'll leave that all up to Hambone and Grandma Sargie and as Dad used to say, "Roll with the blows."

Wild violets randomly growing in the garden paths

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

9:10 PM - Monday evening