November 15, 2020 - Sunday morning
35 degrees/rain/snow/wind
Pentoga Road

Ah, today's November 15th, the first day of deer season. With the weather at its absolute worst, I'm not expecting too much action today. No doubt, the woods are filled with orange clad hunters, but my money's on the deer. Much smarter than those who are chasing them, most are, no doubt, holed up under a stand of thick spruce trees, warm and comfortable and well out of the rain and wind.

Jambo and company have a blind set up towards the rear of our property, but I've not heard any shots being fired. Come to think of it, I've not seen any sign of activity going back and forth. Maybe they decided to sleep in and simply enjoy deer camp.

Yooper Brother Mark reports that after a night of heavy downpours, he's had to bail out his ground blind twice already.

Mmm, sitting on an overturned five gallon bucket in ankle deep water. Now there's dedication.

Me? I like hunting, but unless it becomes necessary or a drunken umpteen point trophy buck wanders through the back yard, those days are over. I've grown lazy in my old age.

Give me a fishing rod and I'm ready to go, but hunting? I've shot more than my share of caribou, moose, and deer over the years, probably more than most. I've got nothing to prove and there's plenty of meat in the freezer. 

Naw, I'll leave hunting to those boys, young and old, clad in orange, whose quest is to put meat on the table.

I had a wonderful trek yesterday morning. Cold and sunny, it was one of those walks where I felt like I could have hiked forever.

Much of the day was spent in the shop. I finished the segmented piece and more puzzles. With an assembly line mentality, projects are slowly being finished. 

Laid out and glued to one continuous piece of backer board, I was tempted to make all three pictures into one, long, puzzle. 

I'm enjoying this puzzle process, but it can be a bit boring. At one point yesterday, I was sawing interlocking lines when I found myself beginning to nod. A cozy warm fire, soft classical music playing the background, the scroll saw emitting the steady quiet, hum, of a sewing machine... it was time to shut down the machinery and call it a day. Falling asleep while operating power tools probably isn't a safe thing to do.

Making the puzzles is probably more of a treat for me than the grandbabies I'm making them for. I purposely have an individual conversation with all as I saw their pictures. Since I rarely get to see them, it allows me a bit of personal time with each.

Sargie and I took a lengthy afternoon drive. We stopped at one venue where I remained in the car (nap time?) while she went inside to browse. Though there were treasures too numerous to mention, she emerged later with one, a decoration to hang on the front porch.

We hauled a wagon of pumpkins down the trail and unloaded them in front of the trail cam. When it comes to puddles that are barely frozen over, Sargie's like a little kid. A true northern girl, she HAS to try the ice, see if it is solid enough to hold her weight.

She quickly found the answer yesterday.

Both feet went crashing through to the mud below. My Sargie may be retired, but believe me, under that grandmotherly exterior lies the heart of a little girl. With last night's heavy rain, she'll be delighted to know that there will be many more frozen puddles to explore.

It's a lousy day in the weather department. With Hambone due to arrive at some point this afternoon, I may take a break from the shop and be lazy, but then, who knows?

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...