Sunset over Crystal Lake in Iron Mountain

January 28, 2021 - Thursday morning

10 degrees/partly cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Brother-in-law, Ross, sent a picture of last night's sunset taken from the back deck of their home. Beautiful. Thanks Ross!

Whew, that was close. For whatever reason, I forgot to turn off the alarm earlier, one of the first things I do each morning. I was kneeling, cleaning the ashes from the wood stove, when I heard a faint clicking.

OMG! I had only seconds, mere moments, before the siren sounded resulting in shaking windows and more importantly, bringing Sargie out of bed upstairs. It has the same effect on the body as ice water splashed on a decayed tooth.

Minus murdering my wife and an ill fitting glove, OJ Simpson has nothing on me. I hurdled over the red chair, clearing it by inches, sprinted past the exercise bike, recovered from a slight slip with the potential of fracturing a hip on the laminated floor, rounded a corner, made a two legged jump over the threshold separating the hallway from the kitchen, and hurriedly punched in the secret code.

My shaking fingers missed the intended mark.

Click.... click.... click.... click....

Breathe Tom, breath. Think Lamaze. Get a focal point. Millions of mamas have babies every year.

In... out... in... out.... in... now gently exhale.

Oh for crying out loud, I wasn't having a baby. Only seconds left.

I summoned the inner me, commanded my fingers to be still, wondered what Bernie Sanders, donning mittens, would do in a moment of crisis like this one, and pushed a sequence of buttons. Suddenly a voice from the central control said,

"Alarm off."

Whew. 

I learned a few weeks ago that some brides have no sense of humor what-so-ever when aroused from a deep sleep by a burglar alarm blaring at 5 AM.

As always, if you had my life, you'd understand.

Wednesday was a good one. On her way to a dentist appointment, Sargie dropped me off at one end of the Alpha Tobin Mine Road, a very rural, winding, paved path, that connects Alpha to Crystal Falls.

The five mile jaunt took me past an old mining community, a couple of defunct iron mines, beaver dams, and this, a practical, yet beautiful, road ornament. 

Evidently the owner grew tired of having his mailbox mowed over by a marauding snow plow. Our's was flattened a year ago, but the county insisted on installing a new one. When one lives in the rural north country, he should plan on dealing with a series of rotating mailboxes. The frequency keeps us from getting bored with the old one.

I met Sargie in Crystal Falls. We made a big loop, got her Coke, then drove around a bit before coming back home.

An ice fisherman setting his "flags," tip-ups, on our local lake

I built a fire to warm the shop and spent the rest of the afternoon there. 

I see our back wood pile is quickly diminishing. If my calculations are correct, we should be in good shape for not only heating, but also to boil hundreds of gallons of sap for the upcoming maple syrup season.

Several coats of poly were applied to the small piece mounted in the lathe. With the chilly temperatures in the shop, drying time between applications is much longer than usual.

I hope to apply the last coat(s) today, separate the bowl from the tenon, and call it "good 'nuff."

Most of yesterday's labor went into the crappie scroll saw piece. I've done a bit each day, but it's time to get it finished and out of the way. Another hour of sawing, two for sanding, finish work, and mounting, and the crappie should be swimming away from Pentoga road to his new home.

Late afternoon found Sargie pummeling me senselessly into submission while playing Rummy. I had the lead for a short while, but just like the horse who found the only gopher hole in the race track of life, I stumbled and was soundly defeated.

It's no wonder she wins. The girl's using performance enhancing supplements. If you don't believe me, check out that bag of chocolates behind her.

It's almost daylight, time for my morning stroll. Unless Sargie Pants has other plans, today looks to be much the same as yesterday. It's a comfortable mid winter routine we've grown accustomed to. 

I wonder what the poor folks are doing?

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Isabella received the Ranger Award for excellence at her school in Wyoming and with it, the official Ranger Hat. 

Giddy up cowgirl! 

Seems to me that Grandpa Yooper Brother Mark could get one that matches. You know, do some Grandpa/Isabella bonding.