May 22, 2021 - Saturday morning

66 degrees/cloudy skies/breezy

Pentoga Road

It must be spring as we filled a cart with potted flowers and plants Friday afternoon while in Iron Mountain. 

After yesterday's early morning walk, most of it in the rain, we fiddled around in the house until I suggested we drive to Iron Mountain. Sargie's been wanting to get flowers for the outside planters and I needed to purchase five gallons of hydraulic fluid for the backhoe.

Home Depot had just received a huge shipment of greenery so the selection was good. In the end, we returned with all that we wanted and more.

The rain finally quit long enough that I could add hydraulic fluid to the backhoe. Somewhat anxious, I wasn't sure the quick fix patch I'd applied the day before would hold.

The arm needs to move for the machine to be made ready to pull down the road. The front legs have to be moved to the back, the tires put on opposite sides, etc. etc. You get the idea.

I added fluid, said a quick prayer to Baby Jesus that the patch would hold, and pulled the starter rope. The engine roared to life and the patch held. We were back in business.

Since the spikes on the front legs can damage the pavement, Sargie used the tractor to lift the front of the backhoe completely off the ground and push it to the gravel.

Off the pavement, I turned it around so that once it was made ready for travel, we could tow it with the Blazer.

With Sargie's help, all the adjustments were made, no small task. Mechanic Dave said to have it at the plant Monday morning and that we will.

Last evening was a quiet one that saw me dozing off and on until it was time to go the bed. After a day of playing outside, much of it in the rain, the eyelids refused to stay open.

We'll be going to Hambone's "grandparent" birthday party this afternoon. The concept of multiple birthday celebrations is foreign to me. I may have had one when I was very young, my sister, Barb, the same.

Honestly, I'm not sure my sons ever had more than one birthday party each in their entire lifetime and even that is in question. Certainly, in those days, presents were often homemade and always few and far between.

We had four sons and the six of us lived on a single income, my teacher's salary and however else we could supplement our income. We had a truck farm (vegetables). I drove school bus daily, taught all day, played in a weekend band, and wrote a newspaper column. The boys' mother eventually took a part time weekend job when I could be with the boys. In the early days, our total earnings amounted to around $8,000 a year. 

But oh, we had fun. Depending on whose birthday it was and the time of year, there were water fights that involved all of us, swimming in the local river, going fishing, exploring the woods around our home, snow forts to be made, sledding, and of course, copious amounts of ice cream and cake along with loud, boisterous, choruses of Happy Birthday sung around the kitchen table.

Those days were a close time for all of us, even if few outsiders were involved. I'm not sure you'd call our immediate family gatherings a party, but rather a celebration, each meaningful and special in its own way. 

Times, they have changed and sometimes, I feel out of touch and old. 

Mighty old.

Time to quit lamenting and go for my daily hike. There's one thing that hasn't changed and that's the joy I feel when I'm walking, surrounded by the woods and water while marveling at the miracle of  God's creation. That's His birthday gift to me, each and every day of the year.

Now that makes perfect sense.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...