I enjoyed feeling the cold air sting my cheeks as I picked 'em up and threw 'em down. The four miles passed quickly.
Once home, the morning's project was to make and fasten a permanent liner onto the bottom of the barn door. The pavement has settled over four inches on one side over the years allowing wind and snow to blow under the door and into the barn.
First was to load the liner onto the four wheeler. Very heavy, the smallest parcel of leftover heavy rubber pond liner weighs over seventy five pounds.
Rolling it out in front of the barn came next.
I hoped Grady wouldn't mind that I borrowed a piece of his sidewalk chalk with which to mark a straight line.
Sargie wasn't idle during this time. After completing multiple loads of laundry, vacuuming, and other housework, she donned her winter clothes and came outside to mow the yard for one last time this year.
Meanwhile, holes were drilled and rivets used to fasten the piece of rubber onto the bottom of the barn door.
I had just just finished servicing the backhoe for the winter when Sargie approached saying she'd hit several rocks while mowing. Since the machine was out and running, why not rid the yard of those?
For those who live in more moderate climes, we, in the far north, grow some of the world's best and biggest rocks.
And yes, we literally grow them.
Each spring sees new ones breaking the surface as the winter's frost heaves them from the ground. The frost also breaks our pavement, throws decks and porches askew, and yes, pushes rocks to the surface. Every year finds us prying or digging a new crop so that we can mow the yard without changing the blade every other week.
Sargie went ahead and rid the yard of two smaller rocks, but not before she broke a shovel handle.
After doing so, she called in the troops, the big dog. It was then that I came to the rescue, galloping in on the backhoe.
With yet another boulder freed from the ground, we called our labors "good 'nuff" and made a dash for the barn.
Later, while Sargie was trapped in the bathroom, I blared Nat King Cole through the house, singing, Joy to the World, just a little ditty to get the girl in the Christmas mood.
That didn't happen. She was quick to remind me that Halloween and Thanksgiving have yet to arrive and it's entirely too early in the year to even begin thinking about Christmas.
As usual, she was right.
I don't mind admitting that snuggling under a blanket and soaking up the heat from the wood stove felt mighty good last evening.
I'm going for my usual early morning walk as soon as the sun peeks over the horizon. Grayson's name, the one that was cut and carved earlier this week, needs a coat of finish and set by the stove to dry. We'll be giving that to him later today as the Milligan's all gather to celebrate his first birthday.
Otherwise, well, stay with me, just a thought here... maybe when we get home, Sargie and I can go caroling at the neighbor's, you know, set the stage for Christmas. After, we can string popcorn and decorate a Christmas tree.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas and all that good stuff.
No?
Okay, then it's time to remind you that a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
No comments:
Post a Comment