September 8, 2021 - Wednesday morning
53 degrees/cloudy/windy
Pentoga Road

Don't those wild plums look delicious? After sampling one during Tuesday morning's walk, I can attest that they aren't nearly as ripe as they appear. It'll be another week or two and then, the squirrels and other wildlife will probably steal them before I get a chance to pick any.

There is little fruit of any kind this year. It seems everything was in blossom last May when a freak cold snap struck our area. The low dropped into the mid teens and many of the blossoms froze and fell to the ground. Makes no difference if they were apples, wild cherries, plums, or choke cherries.

Oh well, as Dad liked to say when his garden or flowers were less than perfect, "That's why there's next year."

Amen, Dad.

The garden is showing signs of end of the season fatigue. I notice the leaves are beginning to curl on many of the vegetables with several being "played out." Several varieties of winter squash are beginning to ripen. The skins and stems are hardening as well as turning a darker color. We'll be carting squash down the basement to use later this winter before we know it.

Tuesday's chore of the day was to repair the garden umbrella. 

The cable that allows us to open and close the large umbrella had snapped during a strong gust of wind. Fixing it entailed crawling inside while Sargie was holding it open.

I now have a better feeling what it's like to be an obstetrician.  

The new cable had to be threaded through six feet of curved pipe. It was something that had me puzzled for a bit until I thought of the sewer snake, the one I'd purchased to remove a clog in the pond filters. I suddenly went from being an obstetrician to playing the role of a proctologist.

Though the cable came out the other end, it still needed to be threaded through several small holes and a pulley in two fittings, one at right angles.

I wasn't finished. There was the other end of the umbrella to worry about.  

The cable needed to be rewound on a spool, something that in reality was nothing more than a giant fishing reel. Problem was, it involved gears, washers, springs, and a handle.

 

It was enough to make a preacher cuss and I'm no preacher. 

Did I cuss? 

Put it this way. It's a good thing Mama wasn't standing next to me with a bar of soap in her hand.

I wasn't alone in my umbrella repair venture. Sargie stood next me much of the time and served as my capable assistant, especially during those times when I was playing obstetrician.

The final piece was put in place. Sargie and I carried the unwieldy umbrella and pipe, all connected, to the garden and set it in the heavy base.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that I began to crank. The umbrella slowly took shape. Yet another successful medical procedure had taken place on Pentoga Road!

The great blue heron episode of yesterday sparked me into action to save our valuable seventeen cent goldfish. It was time to bring out our secret weapon, Kenny.

An inflatable balloon with huge eyes, most wildlife, mammals and fowl, seem to be wary of Kenny.

Thankfully, I was a tuba major while a music student earning my undergraduate degree almost fifty years ago. As most know, I have never wanted for hot air. Kenny inflated in no time and was soon anchored to begin guarding the fish.

Last night saw some of the most angry clouds that have floated our way in a long time. Yooper Brother Mark even sent a text asking if we were on the receiving end of some bad weather. In the end, it all went around us.

It was all blow and no show.

We're heading to Iron Mountain this morning for my annual eye exam and to order new glasses. Cheeks really did a number on my current pair. 

I don't mind going to the Vision Center and seeing our friend, Doc. Sargie and John (Doc) lived across the street from each other for many years and Sargie worked with him at the Vision Center for a long time before retiring.

No doubt, Sargie will pick out my glasses today. Why wouldn't she? Little did I know it ten years ago, but my wife of the future suggested what glasses I should purchase before I ever knew her. She was my boss even then.

Allow me if you would.

It was 2011 and back from Alaska, I had lost my glasses somewhere on the four wheeler trail between here and town. Anyone who knows me knows that Helen Keller has nothing on me if I'm not wearing my spectacles. 

Having the prescription with me, I drove to Iron Mountain in the old man truck with the hope of ordering a new pair. I walked into the Vision Center and one of the opticians asked if she could help me. Making small talk, I spotted Sargie and it was there, amid rows and rows of glasses, that I began to fall in love. I slowly ended the conversation with the first optician and made my way towards the beautiful lady with the sparkly eyes and a strange name.

I picked out a set of frames. The quiet optician asked if I really liked those. It wasn't a question, but rather a statement that said she wasn't going to let me walk away with an ugly pair of glasses.

I told her to choose a pair that she liked. A set magically appeared in her hand and after trying them, it was decided I would purchase those.

I had to go back to the Vision Center several times for an eye exam and to pick up my new glasses. After asking Sargie out each time (with no  response at all) I walked into the Vision Center a few days later at closing time and asked if she'd like to go somewhere after work. I told her I didn't drink, didn't smoke, thus rendering myself somewhat boring, but it would be nice to have someone to go out to dinner with, possibly a movie.

Looking around and no doubt, feeling somewhat trapped, Sargie said we could meet at (where else) McDonalds. 

The rest is history. She had her usual Coke. I managed to dribble half a hot fudge sundae onto my chin and shirt. Unable to contain her usual quiet self, she laughed out loud and her eyes sparkled especially bright at my clumsy antics. 

It was then I fell deeply in love, a love that's only grown by a hundred fold since.

I tell people that Sargie chased me until I caught her. She'll tell you that's a lie, that I chased her and wouldn't give up until she finally agreed to go out to get rid of me... or something like that. I've changed that story line so many times, I can't remember which one is true, but I know it was love at first sight for me.

Whichever it is, we're both so grateful that God put us on each other's paths. Both of us were hurting deeply and He knew we were the best salve for each other's wounds.

Oh, and yeah, ten years have passed and no doubt, Sargie Pants will pick out my glasses later today. She's still the boss. 

My life story. Sigh.

I guess I ought to end and get ready for a trip to sin city. Sargie's going to leave some blood at the hospital for her annual physical and my eye appointment will follow soon after.

Time to get a move on.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...