November 7, 2012 – Wednesday

34 degrees/rain/snow

Pentoga Road

Since I wrote late yesterday afternoon, there’s not a lot to talk about. We went to bed shortly after 10 when the outcome of the election became fairly certain. I awakened early this morning hoping things might have changed, but it wasn’t to be. The people have spoken and that’s why we live in a democracy.

Congratulations to those elected. May God bless America.

Most of yesterday was spent preparing for next semester’s classes. I’m glad I am starting early. I hope the class will be mostly video/audio and the students’ responses will come to me via audio files. My responses will be in the same format, sent as attachments back to my students.

A class like this would have been unthinkable even a few years ago. Audio and video files are quite large, but with the advent of a broadband internet that continues to grow, teaching in this manner should be possible. For sure, if this works, it will save a lot of wear and tear on my eyes. I have a plan B should this not work.

Today. Hmm. I’ve not looked at the weather forecast, but listening to the rain hit the metal roof, I’m fairly certain it will be another wet and chilly one. Other than take my five-mile walk, I’ll probably stay inside and work on classes. I’d rather spend the time inside now and be able to enjoy the nice weather when it arrives.

Sargie works today and will be visiting Mr. Milligan at the VA for supper,  followed by an evening hair appointment. That girl is going to be a busy. At least she has Thursday off.

It’s time to get a cup of coffee and move forward.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Election Day!

November 6, 2012 – Tuesday

29 degrees

Pentoga Road

Election Day 2012! Regardless who wins, I’ll be so happy to see it over. Gone will be all the negative commercials, accusations, polls, and other garbage that have clogged our airwaves for the past year.

Monday was spent cutting and chipping popple trees. I can begin to see a teeny light at the end of the tunnel. Regardless if its completed this fall, there won’t be nearly as much to do next spring. With up to two inches of snow forecast for this afternoon, my cutting days could be drawing to a close.

Whoops, a popple tree fell on the Man Truck. Thankfully it didn't mar or dent the almost perfect finish.

Snow… two inches today, another inch tonight. I need to get the Blazer into the shop and have it made ready for winter use. In relatively good condition, it’s older and seems as though some electrical component is always working at the fringe. Currently, it’s the signal lights. Sometimes they work, other times they don’t.

Son, Luke, with a large beaver blanket from the one he trapped earlier this week.

It was time to venture into town on Monday afternoon to see Barber Bob, but I soon discovered a sign hastily taped onto the door. He was closed to attend a funeral. I’ll try to get in today after I vote. If I don’t get a haircut fairly soon, I’ll be wearing it ala Willie Nelson complete with pigtails… or I can always go the old hippy route. I laugh when I see a male, my age or older, completely bald on top, with his eight or ten hairs pulled back into an anemic ponytail.

I stopped by the plant and saw Mark. While there, I ordered a couple of loaves of homemade oatmeal bread. It is delivered locally once a week and really good.

Digging cold-sensitive gladiola bulbs on Monday afternoon

I was chilled from sweating while working outside earlier and upon arriving home, decided to cuddle up to the wood stove. I may have closed my eyes and snoozed for half an hour. It sure felt good.

There was five miles to hike before sundown. It went by quickly and I arrived back home just as it was getting dark.

Migratory ducks on one of the local lakes

We ate leftover meat pie for supper. I’ll be glad when it’s all gone. Sargie’s creation is so good that I don’t have enough sense (or will power) to eat just one piece. I rolled out of my chair last night feeling like a pig. Just throw me a bushel of corn.

Sargie is off early today. She voted early and doesn’t have to worry about getting to the polls. I think I’ll vote first thing this morning then visit Barber Bob. I hope to cut and chip more trees later today.

Tonight will be spent watching the election results. I’m hoping for a change of administration. I don’t know how our country can survive by borrowing more and more money and taxing those who are lucky enough to be employed or have an income.

Between escalating fiscal irresponsibility (by both parties), social welfare programs, unsustainable Social Security and Medicare, socialized healthcare, and illegal immigration, I’m fearful that our country might come tumbling down and become something other than the republic we’ve known for the past two-hundred-plus years. It happened to the Soviet Union. They certainly weren’t too big to fail. I’m sure China and many other countries would be there to help pick up the pieces.

So, I’ll keep my fingers crossed and exercise my privilege to vote… at least that’s one thing that hasn’t been regulated by the government… yet.

Luke also managed to get a small cow moose (465 lbs) yesterday in northern Maine. The meat should be out of this world delicious!

2:54 PM

I’m having a difficult time getting this uploaded today. After writing this morning, I followed Sargie to the town hall so I might vote. After, I headed to town and visited Barber Bob. My locks are now shorn and I once again feel human.

It’s snowing! Actually, there have been several heavy snow squalls during the day, but none is sticking. It appears that any accumulation will be minor if any.

I’ve worked all day on my upcoming ALST 600 class and am very pleased what I’ve found on the internet and what research I’ve done. My eyes are about ready to fall out, so I think I’ll quit for today and listen to coverage of the election on the radio. It’ll be a long evening in many homes tonight and if the count is very close, I doubt we’ll know any more in the morning than we do now.

Time to get this uploaded.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

A downy woodpecker working over the old apple tree

Sargie's making meat pies late Sunday afternoon

November 5, 2012 – Monday

28 degrees/overcast

Pentoga Road

My body awakened around 3 this morning ready to rise for the day. I tossed and turned and finally came downstairs. There will be plenty of hours to be awake today.

Sunday was a lazy affair. After turning the brush pile in an attempt to get it to catch fire again, I came back in the house and… did nothing. I gabbed with Sargie, surfed the internet, sipped coffee, and imitated a slug.

The Packers played at noon and looked like the Pack of old for three of the four quarters. They had a hard time during the 3^rd quarter. The boys must have had a good nap in the clubhouse during the midgame break. Still, they easily handled the Arizona Cardinals and are looking at a bye for this coming week.

Sargie and I hopped in the Kia and took a short Sunday afternoon drive.  The sun was shining and it was nice to enjoy the late fall weather. I did part with 99 cents at Insurance Liquidators to purchase a new funnel to use in the barn.

After arriving home, we changed shoes and took a three mile walk to Indian Lake and back. There wasn't a breath of air stirring and it was absolutely beautiful. 

Sargie donned her culinary hat last night and made two great meat pies. Filled with potatoes and meat with pie crusts on top and bottom, I ate one big piece then went back for seconds. I could easily become a meat pie-aholic.

It’s back to work saving the eyes of America for Sargie today and outside for me. I really want to finish cutting and chipping this week, at least that’s my goal. I hope to dedicate the rest of the month after to the three classes I’m teaching next semester. Simply put, I need to come inside and spend some good, old-fashioned time at the desk and do some research and writing. I’m out of the professor mode right now, but I’m betting that after forty years in the classroom, it comes back fairly quickly.

We watched as this muskrat swam across Indian Lake then hopped up into a pipe. 

Time to get another cup of coffee and think deep thoughts… or at least the summaries of yesterday’s football games. Aren't they the same?

And so are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

A large pile of brush is torched on Saturday morning

November 4, 2012 – Sunday morning

27 degrees

Pentoga Road

We fell back and sometime during the night, Standard Time arrived. I wish we could simply leave the clocks set to Daylight Savings Time all year round, but then I can’t recall the last time anyone from the government called and asked my opinion… about anything. The days will be getting shorter now, of that it’s certain.

I received an email from my daughter-in-law yesterday with an essay my oldest son composed. In senior command for the Armed Services and a graduate of one of our prestigious military academies, he’s grown tired of continually being criticized for his hard work, efforts made in the past and present, beliefs, and lifestyles.

I attempt to keep my log non-political. It’s not what it’s about, but those who know me personally, know I’m a Conservative. Some call me a Conservative’s Conservative.

But what follows isn’t about me. It’s about a young family man, a husband and father of three, who grew up in a household that barely subsisted on a school teacher’s salary; where it was agreed his mother's work should be at home nurturing and being constant presence for her sons.

Our boys were taught the value of work and education, that the harder they worked, the further ahead in life they’d become. They were taught respect, but to defend themselves and each other. They were brought up to believe that love of God, family, and our country is something to be proud of and to fight for.

Not wanting to offend anyone, I’ve shied away from publically writing how I feel about the state of our country, our leadership and values, and quite frankly, I’m ashamed. It took a man bigger than me to write the words I feel. The following is penned by my oldest son:

I Am A Conservative. 

I am called a racist; yet I believe that anyone who works hard deserves to succeed. I do not believe I am better because of my race, and I do not think less of others because of theirs. 

I am called a sexist; yet the two most important and respected adults in my life are my mother and my wife.

I am called hateful; yet I am universally accepting of good people regardless of their political views, who they are or where they come from.

I am called privileged; yet I was raised in a household with a poverty level income and have worked and sacrificed for what I have today.

I am called stupid; yet I earned a Masters-level engineering degree.

I am called ignorant because I watch Fox News; yet I also watch MSNBC, CNN and BBC because I want to hear alternate opinions and draw my own conclusions.

I am called a religious fanatic because I believe in God and freedom of religion, not freedom from religion; yet I do not push my beliefs on others and am not offended when others practice their religion.

I am told I am taking a woman's right to choose because I don't support abortion; yet after watching the ultrasounds of my beautiful children in their mother's womb, I can't fathom ending that unsuspecting innocence.

I am called selfish, yet I am a member of the Armed Forces and daily assist without hesitation those who call me these things.

I Am A Conservative. 

Thank you son. I’ve never been prouder of you in my life. May God bless all our families and our nation where hard work, freedom, respect, and values, are placed in the highest of priorities.

Saturday morning was spent working on the chipper/shredder. Changing the blade doesn’t require a degree in rocket science, but a decent set of eyes certainly help. I removed the covers and guards and all went well until I had to find three set screws located within the housing the machine. Try as I may, I couldn’t see the darn things.

It was Brother Yooper Mark to the rescue. His right arm is still hurting from the accident, but there’s nothing wrong with his sight. Between the two of us, we had the blade changed in just a few minutes.

While waiting for Mark to arrive, I started the huge pile of old logs and brush on fire. It burned hot for a long time and looking at it now, I still see an occasional whiff of smoke rising. I’ll go out later and use the tractor to turn the pile to keep it burning.

One way or the other, that pile will be gone this year. I’ve tripped over it for the past four and an ugly mound made up of logs and brush, some almost twenty years old, isn’t in my landscape plans.

I cut and chipped more trees and the acre-sized addition to the backyard is slowly coming around. I think it will look like a park when completely finished, in the next year or two.

My active day ended well after dark with a five-mile walk. Following the beam of my headlamp, I loved hiking in the cold, an occasional deer running alongside the road, the howl of a coyote in the distance.

I just received a picture, via text, from Luke holding a giant beaver. I’m glad someone in the family is having some trapping success. Actually, I’ve pulled mine. The bears seem to have a penchant for discovering my raccoon traps and emptying them of any bait. I’ll wait and do cold weather trapping after the bears are asleep for the winter. With deer season almost upon us, I’m not too keen about tramping around in the woods anyway. I don’t fear the locals so much, those who grew up in and around the woods. It’s the occasional trigger-happy “flatlander” who terrifies me.

The Packers play today at noon. I’ll watch part of the game then will probably finish by listening to it as Sargie and I take our Sunday afternoon drive on a previously undiscovered (to us) road. It promises to be a lazy day.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

The piles of wood chips that will be used for mulch between the rows are piling up in the orchard/garden

November 3, 2012 – Saturday morning

29 degrees/overcast/calm

Pentoga Road

What year is the following tune from? Mind you, I’m doing this ditty from memory, but it went something like:

“I’m just wild about Barry,

and Barry’s wild about me!

He’s honest, forthright, and courageous,

He fits me to a T

Oh, I’m just sick about Lyndon,

Humphrey, Baker and boyssssss

On November third

Out with Lyndon Bird

And on to VICTORYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

1964 … that was the year President Johnson featured a little girl picking daisies only to be obliterated by a nuclear blast. The ad was clear… the country could vote for President Johnson and have peace and prosperity or it could vote for Senator Goldwater and we’d all be annihilated into a nuclear inferno. Lyndon won and the Vietnam War escalated. So much for peace and prosperity.

It wasn’t easy being a child Conservative in 1964. I plastered Goldwater stickers over my locker at school (and had to use a razor blade after the election to remove them) and even fit a sticker on my bicycle.

It seems the majority of the school population were descendents of more liberal lineage. We got into political debates on the playground and acted all grown-up as if we knew what we were talking about. I quoted my father and spouted facts and figures that included the words, Communist, Roosevelt, and higher taxes. They replied with the liberal equivalent. All I knew for sure was that Dad said if the wrong party won, the country would be “Going to Hell in a hand basket.”

I awakened the morning after the elections and quickly discovered that my hero, Barry Goldwater, was destined to remain a United States senator. I was heart-broken… for at least ten minutes.

We political foes met once again on the playground where the other side counted mental coup and celebrated their victory. I took it like a child/man and shouted the only thing that really made sense to me at the time.

“Yeah, well just wait until Sunday! The Green Bay Packers are going to KILL your sissy Chicago Bears and you all will be sorry!”

And they did. In the end, the good guys won. I rest my case.

I didn’t sleep well last night. We decided to go to Mr. T’s to celebrate the move being finished. Fish? Pizza? We decided to break with the traditional Friday night fare of fish and have pizza. Family size? Sure, why not! We’d bring the leftovers home.

The pizza was delicious, but something happened during the meal. We ate almost the entire thing. Very little was brought home, a few pieces, and even those escaped the white Styrofoam box and fell cheese-side down onto the floor of the car.

Ice cream for dessert? Sure, it’s Friday night, we’re young and life is good. Sargie was in the kitchen. Did I want a little, a lot, or a medium amount?

“Oh whatever,” I replied.

It was a lot… and I ate it all. Making sure she couldn’t see me, I even swiped the edge of the bowl with my tongue savoring the last of the chocolate sauce. There’s still a child in this sixty-year-old body of mine.

My belly threatened to rebel during the night. Finally, at four this morning, it did. Feeling MUCH better and already up and around, I started my day.

Friday began with a trip to the Alpha post office to mail out a couple of packages. One contained a belt that supports my ultra light backpack. It had broken during Pat’s and my hike earlier this summer and though it is almost two years old, the manufacturer told me it was still under warrantee and to send it back, they would replace it with a newer, more durable, one. I’ll be ready to hike next summer!

Once home, I started cutting the popple trees. One rather large one fell and trapped the bar on my chainsaw, bending the tip. It was ruined.

I can’t complain about the little Homelite saw. I purchased it four years ago after seeing an ad online from a company I’d never heard of. I could buy a refurbished one for $45 with free shipping. I decided to take the risk. A large Husqvarna sat in the barn, but figuring any hours put on a cheap Homelite would be that many less on my “good” saw, I bought it.

It’s been my saw of choice since. Though Homelite no longer has a very good reputation, it’s been very dependable. With all that in mind, I decided to spend $37 and purchase a professional bar to replace the cheaper original. I’m glad I did.

I sawed, I cut, I fell hundreds of popple trees, most 4 inches or less in diameter. Then began the chipping phase. Two pickup loads were made into mulch. By day’s end, I was a tired boy. My arms ached, my back hurt. Still, it felt good to have accomplished so much.

I wish I knew who keeps putting rocks in the way so when I cut, I hit the things and dull the chain! Here the chain is in the electric sharpener.

I changed from my boots into lightweight running shoes and hoofed five miles. It was cold and windy. Why didn’t I dress warmer? It was a very chilled and tired man/boy who arrived back at the house on Pentoga almost an hour-and-a-half later.

A hot shower and a Butterfinger accompanied by a cup of hot tea made everything feel better. Sargie walked in the door and I was ready to celebrate the end of moving.

This morning will be dedicated to maintenance of the chipper machine. It’s time for the blade to be changed. I need to read the instructions then reach deep within the bowels of the monster and perform some mechanical magic. I only hope I can fit the magnifier in there so I can see what the heck I’m doing. I’ll get it one way or the other. Where is Scott in Atlanta when I need him?

Sargie is off early and doesn’t have to work on Sunday. It looks like a good weekend lies ahead.

Now if I can just figure out how to keep the country from going to Hell in a hand basket. A man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Getting a load of wood on Thursday

November 2, 2012 – Friday

30 degrees/breezy/cloudy

Pentoga Road

I’m not sure why the sandman decided to skip through the bedroom sometime after 4 AM rendering me unconscious. I remember raising up on one elbow and looking at the big white numerals on the clock… 4:00 AM. Hmm, to get up or lay in bed for a bit… It was cold on the other side of the blankets. Snuggled next to Sargie, I opted to remain where I was.

The alarm blasted both of us awake at 6. I had a difficult time opening my eyes and felt as though I could sleep until noon. I guess some mornings are just like that.

Thursday was a busy one around the house on Pentoga. I filled the Man Truck with garbage and headed to the dump. Well, at least that’s what we called it in the old days. Now, it’s referred to as the “transfer station.”

I miss the days of good old-fashioned dumps. They were more reminiscent of huge rummage sales with a peculiar odor. When my sons accompanied me, we often left with more than we brought. For years, used dump-motors covered the floor of the garage. Andy delighted in rebuilding anything that ran on gas. One motor was designated the “good” one, the rest were for parts. Working out of our Sanford and Son-type garage, the boy kept us supplied in free lawn mowers for several years.

Returning from the dump, ‘er, transfer station, on Thursday, I threw in the several pieces of scrap metal that have accumulated over the past few months, plus a couple of bags of cans. It was recycle time. I gained $27 in that process and felt downright spunky, so much so that I spent part of the money on a couple of lottery tickets and package of cigars. Nothing like a bit of money in one’s pocket!

Going to the metal scrap yard. Everything from a satellite dish to an old gate. Even the old tailgate will be recycled.

I stopped to see Mark at the plant. He’s still hurting a bit from being in an accident three weeks ago. Another motorist hit him broadside and totaled the company truck… totally the other party’s fault. I tried hard to talk Mark into suing the other guy and making millions… then sharing it with me. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? So far, I’m not having any luck.

Failing to become an instant millionaire at Brother Yooper Mark’s expense, I decided to fill the truck with log ends while at the plant. One of the workers saw me back up to the pile and came out with the loader and made the job effortless. All I had to do was stand and watch while he filled the truck with a month’s worth of wood to burn.

It was cold and windy. I decided to cut and chip another group of popples after returning home. If I can keep on my current schedule, I should be finished for the fall months by next week sometime. Right now, I’m racing the weather. As long as the ground remains bare, I’ll be in good shape.

There was still an hour left before dark. Already dirty and sweaty, I donned my hiking shoes and finished out the daylight hours with my five-mile walk. It felt good to put one foot in front of the other and work out the day’s kinks.

Sargie was home fairly early. We feasted on leftover clam chowder and homemade bread. I can already see that some combination of the two will become suppertime staples this winter when it’s cold and blowy.

I’m going to continue cutting today. I’ve been trying to put things away in the barn, readying it for the winter months, and at some point, need to pull out the snowmobile and start it. Should the machine need some work, it’ll be much easier now than later when working without mittens makes one’s finger sting. And, I imagine I’ll stroll the five miles before today’s end.

Sargie gets off work early today. Though she has to work on Saturday, it’ll be an early one and she’s off Sunday. Another week has come and gone.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Burning leaves

Whoa! I'm scared. Grandbabies, Abigail and Coleman, via Skype from Maine, just before heading out the door to Trick or Treat on Wednesday evening.

November 1, 2012 – Thursday

27 degrees – clear/calm/frosty

Pentoga Road

We made it through Halloween in good shape last night. When one lives on Pentoga Road, population eight, (in a three-mile-stretch) he doesn’t have to be too concerned about hoards of goblins and ghouls lined up out to the street, arms outstretched holding open pillowcases begging for candy. Still, it was reassuring to have the dish of sweets, mostly miniature Butterfinger candy bars, at hand just in case… so now that no munchkins knocked on our front door, I’ll have to eat them. Life’s not always fair.

I accompanied Sargie back to Iron Mountain early Wednesday, picked the Blazer up from where it was left the night before, and drove over to her former house to begin making trips to Goodwill. FOUR loads later, the garage was empty.

My biggest challenge of the morning was to fit a queen-sized mattress into the small SUV. I won’t repeat the words that were muttered, but I’m proud of the engineering feet that was accomplished. Who says square pegs don’t fit into round holes… or vice versa.  The kid who helped me unload the Goodwill booty said he’d seen a lot of loads brought into the store during his tenure, but he’d never witnessed a queen-sized mattress shoved into a Blazer. The boy-man even compared it to a ship being built inside a bottle. When he asked how I managed to fit it in, I simply told him that true craftsmen never divulge their trade secrets.

Finally, the door of the house in Vulcan, MI, is closed for the final time.  Le déplacement est terminé. The move is finished.

Sargie and I enjoyed burgers from Wendy’s over the noon hour. Her day was going well and she was happy in the knowledge she’d be finished at 5 PM, early by Vision Center standards.

I arrived home around 2 and began work on the tailgate for the truck. Using a Sharpie marker was frustrating as I wanted it to fit perfectly. Which part of a quarter-inch line do I cut along, the inside, outside, or straight down the middle? Still, it came out fine and fits just right. As my brother-in-law says, “This dawg’ll hunt.”

I know, eat your heart out. Only a few are chosen to drive a Man Truck on life's highways.

Luke called, asking if I might turn on the computer. I had the most enjoyable few minutes with grandchildren, Abigail and Coleman, just before they ran out the door to go trick or treating. Coleman was a scary Transformer; Abba the most beautiful witch I’ve ever seen. I love being a grandpa. Thank God for Skype and video conferencing. Thank God for my grandbabies.

I read assignments last night and managed to write a test and have it uploaded for the class’s enjoyment. It will soon be time to begin reading final projects. The semester has flown by.

I’m going to try out the new tailgate and make a dump run today. Its time to divest the six garbage cans of this past summer’s non-burnables before the dead of winter arrives. After, I want to resume cutting and chipping the popple trees. Somewhere in the mix, I’d like to sneak in my five-mile walk.  Someday, I have to get into town to get a load of wood from Yooper Mark’s plant and grab a haircut from Barber Bob. A man’s work is never done.

It’s promising to be a nice day. Time to get ready to greet it properly.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road… 

Our good friend and Sargie's coworker, Michelle, dressed on Halloween as a.... Whoopie Cushion?!?!?