Niece, Aria, isn't mad at anyone

September 3, 2020 - Thursday morning

54 degrees/rain/windy

Pentoga Road

There are some people in this world that, by merely entering a room, can make everyone smile. 

Aria's one of them. 

I don't know if you believe in "vibes" or not, but our great niece is overflowing with good ones and happy to share them all.

Wednesday began with a quick walk to Pentoga Village and back. The skies were a deep blue and with the temperatures cool and the wind blowing through my nonexistent wavy hair, it was a perfect morning.

Once home, I finished loading the trailer with goodies bound for the dump. 

Since our's is a pole barn, the ground heaves up and down each season. The floor is paved and not attached to the walls, so occasionally, a plant will be rooted outside, yet weave its way under a wall and grow inside.

I found this vine winding its way to the ceiling.

The dump, oops, the transfer station, was filled with bagged, smelly, uninteresting, garbage. Now that fun landfills and old fashioned dumps are a thing of the past, getting rid of one's garbage is boring and expensive.

Back home, Sargie was busy in the house doing her thing so I hopped on the rider and mowed the immediate yard. We'll be going over it again before Sunday, but with all the rain that's fallen lately, it just couldn't wait any longer.

I had just finished mowing and was talking with Sargie when I took a step and almost crumbled to the ground. SOMETHING, perhaps an Amazonian spear, was imbedded in the bottom of my foot.

Amazing how a teeny thorn, something as finite as a thistle sticker, can hurt so badly.

How it became rooted in the bottom of my foot is beyond me. Yes, Mom, I was wearing shoes and socks. No, Mom, I wasn't mowing barefoot. 

Mama was a stickler (no pun intended) for wearing shoes and I was occasionally chided as a child for being outside barefoot.

Vince the Plumber and his son arrived to inspect the shallow well pump in the basement. Both pronounced it very sick indeed. The bearings squealed so loudly that it was impossible to talk while it ran and could be heard two stories overhead in our bedroom.

The pump and tank was old when I bought our home eleven years ago and made strange sounds then. 



A new pump? A new pump using the old pressure tank? A stand alone tank? How about new everything? Vince the Plumber gave me several options, some more expensive than others, but in the end, staying the course of making our hundred year home "old people friendly" with the least needed maintenance in the coming years, we decided to to replace everything. The new pump will have a much larger pressure tank ensuring it won't have to work nearly as hard.

I've always been a prepper/historian of sorts, one who believes that history can and does repeat itself. Hundred year storms occur frequently and with today's civil unrest, I'm not all that comfortable relying on the rest of society for our well being. It's one of the many reasons we freeze, dehydrate, can, or otherwise preserve some of our food stocks.

The electricity on Pentoga Road seems to disappear several times a year and if you remember, vanished in a particularly bad snowstorm for three days last fall. We were better prepared than most, keeping warm by the wood stove and melting snow for water. In fact, Sargie made some of her most delicious soups ever on top of the wood stove.

Vince the Plumber and I talked at length yesterday afternoon and he's going to install an old fashioned pitcher pump in the basement alongside the new shallow well system. With it, we'll be guaranteed a fresh supply of unlimited drinking water. Think of it as an insurance policy that I hope we seldom use.

Sargie and I enjoyed a beautiful ride into northern Wisconsin through the national forest. The gravel and dirt roads remind me much of those in the Big Woods of northern Maine, those that seem to meander nowhere and everywhere.

It was late afternoon by the time we arrived back home. I plucked a spaghetti squash from the garden and under Sasha's tutelage via text, Sargie began preparing it for supper.

 

Having such super dooper squash this year, I was careful to save enough seeds to plant next year. This is a bush variety that has proven to be very good and extremely prolific.

Sargie filled the squash halves with a mixture of sausage and other goodies, then topped it all off with fresh tomato slices from the garden and cheese.

To say it was delicious would be an insult to Sargie's culinary skills. We both went back for seconds and only very full bellies kept us from returning a third time.

With rain and very strong winds forecast, it looks like an inside day, possibly one spent in the shop. Though everything in the barn is put away, it needs to be swept. Otherwise, we'll hang out here and wait for Vince the Plumber. 

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...