For the love of God, run and save yourself!

That's my oldest granddaughter, Abba (Abigail) who recently passed her driver's test.

November 5, 2020 - Thursday morning

50 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Whew, Abba's growing up and Grandpa's getting old. The proof's in the picture. Abs is a straight A student, will soon be inducted into the National Honor Society, works a part time job at a local apple orchard in Maine, and is just an all round good kid. I'd like to say she got her good looks from my son, Luke, but she's the spittin' image of her mom, Melinda, a neonatal nursing supervisor, also a beautiful young woman. 

Both make Grandpa and "Daddy Tom" a proud man.

My Wednesday morning walk was gorgeous. Sargie left me off several miles from home and I enjoyed my stroll back to Pentoga Road.

Maggie Lakes, a private,"exclusive," community several miles away. 

I enjoyed some of the best homemade bread I've eaten in a long time. Dr. Paul gave us a freshly baked loaf and let me tell you, it's melt in your mouth good.

I haven't had bread this good since his baby sister, Amelia Bedelia, gave us a loaf several months ago.

One thing I'll say about Jambo's family, they all know how to cook and bake.

The temperature was warm, the wind light. Sargie and her super model/sister, Nancy, had gone shopping for the day. Simply put, I was free to do whatever I wanted. In the end, I threw all work to the wind and practiced setting up my backpacking tent, the one I'll be using on the Appalachian Trail.

Why would I do such a thing over a year in advance, you ask? Well, who wants to fiddle around putting up a tent in pouring rain? I'm even going as far as color coding the corners so it can be laid out, the four corners staked, and erected in under one minute.

I used to set up my oldest son, Josh's, four season tent, the one I used in the arctic, in under three minutes. It was much more involved and with temperatures often twenty to thirty below zero, speed was of the essence after a ten hour day riding a snowmobile.

My AT trail boss, Scotty, has been reminding me it's time to change out the shoes that I wear daily on my multi mile walks to keep my rapidly aging feet healthy. 

He's right. It's time. 

That's why I pay the boy the big bucks. Scott, an old biker and outdoor enthusiast, is as mentally and physically tough and opinionated as I am. We've been good friends and a part of each other's lives since the day we met in Alaska.

I may be hiking, but Scotty's the president of the upcoming six month hike and in charge of the "base camp". His job will be to keep me mentally and physically between the lines and on the trail, to remind me when I'm pushing too hard or kick me in the backside when I begin to whine and feel sorry for myself. Scotty will be operating from Georgia and I'll be coordinating most of my daily physical and mental logistics through him. This will save Sargie much worry and frustration about my hike and hopefully, she'll be able to enjoy it with me from afar.

It may be over preparation, but not many seventy year old's have completed the 2,200 mile solo AT thru hike in one season. I'll take all the help I can get. 

In a playful mood and not wanting to do any work Wednesday morning, I retrieved a piece of spalted maple from the red shed, one I've been saving from which to turn a bowl.

Spalted is a nice word for "almost rotten," and this piece was well on it's way.

Not only was it soft and pithy, it contained multiple worm holes and tracks. Initially, I was going to attempt to sand it smooth, but it was obvious that would be impossible with all the natural grooves and holes. 

In the end, after hollowing and some shaping, I decided to apply multiple coats of finish to make it shine and simply call it an "art piece."

I've been piddling away on painting the popple bowl. Between suffering from essential tremors, an inherited condition, and less than perfect eyesight, it's been a slow process. Still, Aunt Joanne reminds me daily that I need to show a progress photo, so here it is.

Don't judge it yet. It's still very much a work in progress and there's still the distinct possibility it could end up in the wood stove. There are three patterns, all drawn freehand, surrounding the base. The lip will be orange and the inside left natural. All will be covered with a coat of gloss.

Hambone made the mistake of mentioning that the puzzles I made for his cousins on the East Coast are too easy for a big boy like himself. 

Really?

No small amount of time was spent making a special one just for him, a puzzle with around fifty pieces.

Sargie may have been away yesterday, but I certainly wasn't alone. Jimmy was either at the window in the shop catching flies or close by watching my every move.

Hanging sideways, he'd remain motionless, waiting to make a meal from an unsuspecting fly.

I've read that birds will imprint on a human and assume that person is their mother(?)... or, ahem, father. Whatever, when I'm outside or now, in the shop, I'm seldom alone.

And for those who may have less than desirable motives, Jimmy is very protective. I don't know if I'd go as far as to call him an attack bird of prey, but he'll certainly scream at you.

Sargie arrived home last night all smiles and giggles. She found a beautiful dress to wear next year at Mel and Macrea's wedding. There's no doubt that my Sargie will be the most beautiful girl in attendance. 

Today's forecast to be another good one. I'm heading out the door in a few minutes for my walk. After? Hey, who knows? There're tons of projects to be done and I want to do them all while the sun shines and the temperature's warm!

But then, Sargie and I may just take a nice ride and enjoy each other's company.

After all, every day's a holiday, every meal's a feast.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Perched on a wire overhead, Jimmy enjoys looking over my shoulder.