Ranging between eight and fourteen feet in height, the giant sunflowers are beginning to bloom.

August 7, 2016 - Sunday
60 degrees/clear/calm winds
Pentoga Road

It looks like there's another zippity do dah day ahead on Pentoga Road. The humidity is low and temperatures are forecast to be in the seventies. Perfect.

It is beginning to get dry again. Time for our weekly thundershower, although one is not forecast until later in the week. I'll need to start watering the garden soon.

Zucchini on the vine

Saturday consisted of making pickles and hauling dirt. I can't believe how fast the zucchini grew while I was under the weather this past week. I plucked several off the vines that were approaching the size of a Louisville Slugger baseball bat. 



The cucumbers decided to come to life this past week and I picked close to twenty, more than enough to make a decent batch of bread and butter pickles. It's that time of year.

Between Sargie's family, Sheri, and what we'll use, the large zucchini won't go to waste. Seems most shred and freeze the large squash to use in their baking. Sargie will stuff a large one later today with Spanish rice, mushrooms, sausage, hamburger, tomato sauce, and other secret herbs and spices, and we'll eat like royalty. 

It was time to make bread and butter pickles. I'd found an inexpensive food processor last year and purchased it on a whim. I'm glad I did as it makes short work out of slicing cucumbers. 

We'd purchased the processor at a steep discount and I quickly found out why. The spring on a safety switch was broken. With a bit of duct tape, I quickly eliminated the need for the spring and the cucumbers were soon sliced and ready for packing into jars.

I processed eight quarts, seven of cucumbers and had enough brine left to make one from sliced zucchini. All should taste good this coming winter. 



It was beautiful outside and I felt too good to quit for the day. I headed to the rear of the property and dug a load of fill.



In all, three loads were brought to the side yard, shoveled, and raked, before calling it a day. In fact, another two loads should see the side yard finished. It will be nice to not have to mow around any rocks.



The poor old Man Truck has just about breathed its last breath. The power steering is gone as are the brakes. It's stuck in four-wheel drive, the driver's side door refuses to close because the frame is rusted in half. The latches no longer fit together. The heater won't turn off and the pressure plate for the clutch is about worn out. Shifting now requires a delicate synchronization between the motor, the clutch, and the shifter. Add that the bread bag tie used to attach the accelerator cable to the engine is about worn through and I think this could be the last year for the Man Truck. It's next final resting place might be the bed of the junk man's hauler when he comes to take it away. The old beast has served me well.

I'm not sure what's on today's agenda. Sargie's off and it's a picture perfect day. Hmm, do I see a fishing trip on the horizon, possibly one this evening? 

Whatever we do later, one thing is certain. I need to go feed those giant pumpkins. They'll be getting restless and causing havoc with the rest of the garden.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Sargie and I enjoyed the first apple from one of our trees Friday afternoon

August 6, 2016 - Saturday

54 degrees/clear/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I've read that it takes at least seven days for a virus to run its course. I began to feel lousy a week ago today and this is the first morning that I've felt back to normal. I'll keep my doctor's appointment scheduled for the week after next as a follow up. It's been quite the ride.

The phone rang shortly after 6 Friday morning. It was Neighbor Mike. He and his bride, Germaine, are down for the weekend from their home in Marquette.

 

After my usual morning garden activities and while Sargie was in the shower, I went to Mike's where we had a great visit. He also showed me his camp garden. It's doing well.

Since Sargie didn't have work, I asked if she wanted to go out to eat lunch. I didn't have to ask that girl twice. We went to the The Old School Cafe in Alpha where I had a great, low calorie, bacon cheeseburger.

Once home, I fired up the rider and mowed the main trail and back meadow alongside where I'll be digging fill dirt this coming week.

The last of the boulders and rocks were removed from the side yard and the backhoe moved to the rear of the property in preparation of hauling dirt.

Of course, hauling means I had to resurrect the old Man Truck.

My heart fairly raced as it roared to life. I dumped a bit of power steering fluid into the reservoir and watched it run out the bottom and onto the ground. 

Ah, who needs power steering?

The same happened with the brake fluid. Very little stayed in the tank, but a lot found it's way onto the top of the engine. Hmm, I still had brakes... sort of. Good 'nuff.

After letting the engine idle for a few minutes, I hopped in and began the journey to the rear of the property.

Sargie shouted, "STOP!!!"

The muffler had fallen off and I'd run over the thing.

With the muffler disposed of, I continued the long and treacherous journey to the rear of the property. The truck roared, it coughed, it jiggled, shimmied, and shook, but in the end, the Man Truck made it. I backed it into place where it will be ready to take on the first load of fill dirt later today.

Sargie had been cleaning the garage during the afternoon. She says since I won't do it, she has to. I try to help, but there always seems to be something else to work on.

While Sargie was doing her thing, I did the afternoon feeding of the pumpkins and watered all the planters in front of the house.

The largest giant pumpkin is approaching the hundred pound mark. I hope it will gain another four hundred over the next month. The smaller pumpkin weighs around seventy-five pounds.

We took an early-evening four wheeler ride last night. It was cool with little humidity, the perfect way to end a busy day.

Look real closely at this picture... in the apple tree over the No Trespassing sign.

Some people have watch dogs or alarm systems. These folks have hornets. Ain't no one gonna steal apples from that tree!

Sargie's back to work today, but has Sunday off. I'm going to go for a three mile walk this morning then come home and take inventory on my pickle-making supplies. I have cucumbers and zucchini squash, all key ingredients for bread and butter pickles. It's time.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Get out of the way! It was reported Elvis was seen in Iron River Thursday evening!

August 5, 2016 - Friday

63 degrees/partly cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

I mean it. Really. Who'd have thought that after all these years, Elvis would have appeared in little bitty Iron River, Michigan... and to think, for almost forty years, they said the King was dead. 

I'm here to tell you, it ain't so! The proof is on the billboard in front of our local community center, right above Kung Fu Panda and Batman. Elvis is alive and kicking.

Sargie got off work an hour early Thursday afternoon and we were at the Windsor Center forty-five minutes before showtime. You could feel the excitement. There were a fair amount of people already in their seats with more streaming through the door.

What happened over the next two hours was one of the most fun times I've had in many years. Elvis gave his show in two parts, the first half featured songs from the fifties and sixties and after intermission, from the seventies.

The backup band, supposedly the only one sanctioned by Presley Enterprises out of Graceland, took pride in playing all the music exactly as was done when Elvis was still alive. They were good.

We were Hound Dawg'd, All Shook Up'd, and Teddy Bear'd for well over an hour. It was wonderful. The crowd sang and clapped and the energy in the room was purely electric. 

We kept saying that we wished Sargie's sisters and brothers-in-law were with us. They'd have been some of the loudest singers and by night's end, Elvis's last name would have been, no doubt, Milligan. 

Elvis made his appearance after intermission dressed in his jump suit and sang all those songs we loved back when, How Great Thou Art, In the Ghetto, Suspicious Minds, My Way, You Gave Me a Mountain, and many others.

Laugh? Lord, we laughed when Elvis began handing out his famous scarves from around his neck. There was no shortage of little old ladies who made their way to the stage to get theirs, along with pecks on the cheek, from Elvis. 

The most touching time was when a young girl with Downs Syndrome tried to get to the stage, but was unable to and gave up. Elvis spotted her in the crowd, motioned for the young lady to come up, and gave her a scarf, making her the happiest girl in the world. We all clapped, cheered, and sang even louder.

When The Trilogy, of which Battle Hymn of the Republic and Dixie is a part, was performed, the entire crowd stood and sang. With the band playing and the rest singing at full volume, goose pimples were racing up and down my arms and I might have choked back a tear or two. The gentleman who played Elvis gave quite a personal tribute to our veterans and troops and for the first time in a long time, I felt that old-fashioned patriotism that made America great, a feeling that has been difficult to find over the past eight years. At that moment, the rapidly aging men and women in the audience could and would have whipped all the terrorists in the world, single handedly, with one arm tied behind their backs and it wouldn't have surprised me to see General Patton, John Wayne, and Ronald Regan walk onto the stage to lead the charge.

Sargie and I departed the community center last night with hoarse voices, but still singing in two-part disharmony. It wasn't until I lay in bed later that I truly realized that the memory of Elvis is a real part of Americana, just like God, Mom, country, and apple pie. 

Oh, yesterday before the concert? It was filled with boring stuff like laundry, sweeping the floors, and moving boulders from the side yard. Nothing exciting.

Sargie's off today so I'm not sure what lies ahead. Other than an ache here and a pain there, I'm feeling much better. The hot temperatures and high humidity have departed. Mow the grass? Work in the side yard? Take a drive? Go water skiing? Rob a bank? (<- Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.)

One thing I know, I'd better get out to the garden and feed those pesky pumpkins before they get too rambunctious and try to break out of the fence. As you well know, a man's work is never done.

Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Coleman and Abbigail
It doesn't get any better than a visit to the International Cryptozoology Museum!

August 4, 2016 - Thursday

70 degrees/hazy skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

We left the air conditioning on last night and awakened to find most of the windows in the house fogged over this morning. It's unreal how high the humidity is. Though it may be uncomfortable for us humans, the garden is loving it. I still believe there's a good chance that this year's giant pumpkin can beat last season's. 

I almost didn't write this morning. Between the hot and humid weather and battling this bug that's moved into my body, I didn't wander far from the comforts of the living room. 

I'm happy to report that I've not run a fever in over twenty-four hours and the sores that were inside my mouth are healed. In fact, I feel completely normal except...

I'm not thrilled that both thumbs and index fingers on each hand are extremely weak with most dexterity gone. Sure makes it hard to type, brush my teeth, or hold a cup of coffee. 

This thing has until tomorrow, Friday, to vacate, or I'll be heading to the Urgent Care Center. I'm tired of pussy footing around.

Bennet just turned six months old

So that's the news in our end of the world. I'm going to walk an easy three miles this morning and try to get this gel I call my blood flowing again. Sargie opens and should be home early, just in time for us to attend the Elvis concert in Iron River. I know I'll be singing, "C'mon and be my little, Teddy Bear," to her deep into the midnight hours, well, until she turns over and tells me to shut my mouth. 

Hey, it's just the way I roll. Uh-huh-huh...

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Coleman's ready for another season of football. 

One of the Big Moose pumpkins growing in the new garden addition. It's already in the twenty to thirty pound range.

August 3, 2016 - Wednesday

70 degrees/sunny/calm winds

Pentoga Road

The past four days have seen some sort of bug, or virus, call my body home. It makes its presence known by giving me aching joints accompanied with a fairly high fever. I also notice my coordination is off kilter making typing a bit difficult.

I called the doctor's office yesterday, but the first opening wasn't until August 16th. I took it, but if I don't get to feeling better, I'll go to our local urgent care clinic. I'm hoping that given a bit more time, this thing will have run its course and I'll be back to firing on all eight cylinders. 

These past two days haven't been completely worthless. Sargie and I went fishing Monday night at our local lake where we caught enough to bring home and clean. I taught Sargie how to cast to shore from the boat. Dad used to refer to it as, "Casting for bass." 

I've created a monster. Having found success casting for bass, each time I suggested we come home, Sargie would argue for "just one more cast!" 

I'm tickled she likes it. She makes a great fishing partner.

Another picking of blueberries was in order and a half a five-quart ice cream pail was filled.

As long as I was hot, sweaty, and miserable, I figured I might as well pick the cauliflower and get it blanched and in the freezer.

Two-and-a-half gallon freezer bags were filled.

The last nest of yellow jackets was torched late Monday night. Initially, I didn't know if the entire underground colony had been destroyed, but after checking yesterday, it appears it's a done deal. I won't miss having those stinging spawn of Satan flying around my head each time I'm in the garden or fearful of them when the side yard is mowed.

After voting in yesterday's primary, I made my way into town to purchase two tickets to the Elvis (impersonator) concert Thursday night. Sargie and I are fully prepared to sing, clap, bee bop, and who knows, we may even get carried away and dance the hootchie coo in the aisles!

I stopped at the plant on the way home and picked up the trailer that had been filled with fire wood. I hope to get it unloaded over the next day or two.

Yooper Brother Mark is in New York for meetings this week, but his assistant, Ann, and I had a good conversation.

I'd just parked the trailer when the skies opened up and dropped .4 of an inch of badly needed rain.

I hoped it might last all day, but was grateful for what we received. It quit after an hour when the sun appeared and it became quite hot and humid.

The rest of the day was spent in the recliner either shivering or sweating profusely. Sargie was home early and we spent the evening watching America's Got Talent followed by Bear Grilles squeezing water out of elephant dung.

Other than some achy muscles, I feel pretty good this morning and thankfully, the fever has subsided. I'd like to get those rocks and boulders picked up in the side yard and possibly begin unloading the trailer of firewood. It's to be hot, so no doubt this afternoon will be spent doing less strenuous activities... like taking a nap.

I didn't feel like writing Tuesday morning, but Brutus did. He had the computer powered up and ready by the time I came downstairs.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Once again, Sargie put on a fishing clinic Sunday evening. I wonder if there's such an event as The Bluegill Masters Tournament?

August 1, 2016 - Monday

52 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I put through the lousiest night of sleep that I've experienced in a long time. I'm not certain what bug is calling my body home, but I wish it would run its course and go away.

Saturday evening found me with four or five sores inside my mouth and a swollen and sore throat. I woke up Sunday morning with the joints on the upper half of my body aching. A liberal dose of ibuprofen made the day comfortable, but it wore off around midnight and that was the end of any sleep. 

Sargie fears Lyme disease as I pulled more than a few ticks off my body earlier this summer. I'm thinking malaria, yellow fever, or perhaps the Black Plague. Regardless, I've promised her that if the symptoms don't go away in the next couple of days, I'll make arrangements to visit the doctor.

Sunday found me in the garden doing my usual morning chores. I had to run twine, encircling the outside of each chocolate cherry tomato plant, as they've far outgrown their oversized cages (each four feet tall) and are now taller than my head. I took this picture at eye level.

Walking between the plants is like taking a stroll in the enchanted forest.

The flowers around the fountain are beginning to blossom making the teeny goldfish basin seem much more natural.



I made my way to the barn and reassembled the mower. The initial test cut wasn't too impressive. Seems the belt was twisted causing the blades to run backwards. That was quickly rectified and the old machine should be good for the remainder of the season.

It was time to work in the side yard, to remove the last of the boulders that have insisted on sticking above the ground just enough to catch the mower blades. I used the bucket on the old Ford tractor to move the backhoe.



I was happily digging along when something struck me.  Seems I dug into a yellow jacket nest.

I couldn't see the darn things, but I could sure hear them. Fearing an attack by the entire colony, I maneuvered the backhoe far enough away to begin digging again and darn if I didn't uncover another nest. I found the entrance to that one and last night, well after dark, poured diesel fuel down the hole, and lit it. It burned underground for quite a while.

 

I finished digging Sunday afternoon and depending on the yellow jacket situation, should be able to scoop the rocks and boulders into the bucket and begin filling the holes with dirt this coming week.



While I was playing Hide and Go Seek with the Yellow Jackets, Brutus treed a squirrel and sat like a statue for well over two hours, daring the critter to come down. It never did.

Sargie had to work from noon until five. She indicated before leaving that she'd like to go fishing Sunday evening. No problem there.



Conditions were perfect and the action was fast enough to keep us occupied. We had our usual big-money contest and as usual, Sargie came out the grand champion and pocketed five cents. 

It was dark before we loaded the boat onto the trailer. I cleaned fish under lamp light at the table in the garden while Sargie made ready for another week of work.



I'm not certain what's in store for today, probably a nap at some point. Sargie opens this morning. I hope to walk my five miles then I'll see what the yellow jacket situation is. If the nest was destroyed, I'll work in the side yard. If not, the back of the storage unit needs to be painted and the drip edge repaired. I noticed last spring that some of the melt water was running back up underneath the soffit rather than onto the ground. I did something wrong when I installed the drip edge two years ago.

Regardless, I'll find it. Oh yes, it will be repaired. After all man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

The bluegills aren't huge by any means, but they qualify as "eaters."