September 15, 2021 - Wednesday morning

46 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I don't normally begin with a video, but the short clip that Miss Jody sent from their home outside of Laurel, Mississippi, is outstanding. The last of our hummingbirds departed a week ago and I'm relieved to see that Miss Jody is taking good care of them.

Let's see, in the Grandbaby Department, Luke sent Abigail and Coleman's school pictures. Abigail is a senior this year and plans to attend the University of Maine/Orono and study to become a Nurse Practitioner. 

Coleman's a freshman and other than mountain biking, making videos, destroying quarterbacks on the football field, growing hair, and chasing girls, I'm not sure he has any plans as of yet.

Sargie and I had a wonderful time in Green Bay on Tuesday. From Harbor Freight to Menard's Lumber, onward to Costco, Aldi Foods, and finally, the mall, we ran our errands and even managed to escape Title Town without spending our entire family fortune, all $1.85 or whatever's left in my wallet.

We arrived home late yesterday afternoon and had a quiet evening.

Something's robbing our burn barrel. When I got the barrel, two weeks ago, I had ventilation holes burned in the bottom with each being two to three inches in diameter. There has been a nighttime raider dragging what little doesn't burn out through the holes and making a mess.

The openings are too small for a skunk or coon. I don't believe it's mice. In other words, I just don't know.

Only one way to find out. I set the trail cam on a cement block facing the barrel and am anxious to see what, if anything, it recorded during the night.

Whatever it is needs to go away. I'll set a trap near the barrel when I find out what kind of critter insists on calling our burn barrel his private domain.

I'm going to head out the door for my morning walk at first light. Otherwise, I hope to work in the shop today and finish the two bowls. No doubt, there'll be a honey-do job or two pop up before day's end.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

A beautiful Virginia Creeper vine, crawling up a small spruce tree, has turned a brilliant shade of red.