Looks like Ivy's ready for Easter

April 8, 2019 - Monday morning

41 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

It finally quit raining during the night. With the temperatures in the 40's and no wind, Sargie and I decided to sleep with the bedroom window wide open. Though it's too early for the peeper frogs to sing their nighttime melody, just the mere thought that it was warm enough for an open window made both of us feel better and we slept well.

I guess I shouldn't get too optimistic. Carl the Weatherman is predicting the possibility of a large snow storm later this week, one that could dump several springtime inches on the UP. 

Oh well, it's not as though we have any choice in the matter.

With Hambone back home and Sargie working, I walked my usual five miles Sunday morning. I've been listening to several podcasts of people over the age of 60, who've successfully hiked the 2,180 mile Appalachian Trail from one end to the other. Their sage advice is quite helpful in my planning of the trek and certainly helps me to mentally and physically prepare for whatever might befall an older person attempting such an adventure.

I've dreamed about this hike for almost forty years and have come to the decision that it should be my seventieth birthday present to myself. That gives me three years to prepare my mind and body for the six month undertaking. Unless I can talk her into coming with me, it will take that long to plan for Sargie to come out and meet me occasionally in one of the many trail towns the AT winds through and around. 

I've thought about finding a hiking partner, at least to begin with, but finding a senior citizen who wants to spend six months of his life walking up and down mountainsides while living in a tent is difficult. Besides, there are enough people who begin the trail each year that I'll fall into a bubble of hikers, those who trek the same speed as I do. 

I've been told one makes instant friendships as everyone's hiking for the same reason, to summit Mt. Katahdin in Maine which signals the end of the trail.

In my younger days, I imagine I'd have been a speedster and completed the hike in four to five months. At age 70, IF I am able, it will probably take the entire six months. Chances of failure are high, but I am optimistic I can beat the odds. If I didn't think so, I wouldn't begin. Less than 50 people over the age of 70 have ever successfully completed the the trail from Georgia to Maine in one year's time. I hope to make it 51. 

So, I have three years in which to plan, to make my body as ready as possible, and most importantly, prepare my mind for the long absence away from Sargie and Pentoga Road. No doubt, I'll be talking about those preparations, as well as others, in the future.

My old friend, Paul Baker, used to say that half the fun of going is getting there. I'm having a ball.

Most of Sunday was spent assembling and ripping apart the front wall of the garden house. I've made mention before that the plans give a person just enough to begin, but leave out many of the finer details.

After my umpteenth mistake, I gave up by late afternoon and came inside. When I get tired, I make mistakes. When I get really tired, I make stupid mistakes. Sunday afternoon was filled with stupidity.

Sargie was home early and we feasted on chicken soup (for the soul?) and spent a quiet evening in front of the television. She closes the Vision Center tonight and I'm planning on finishing that front wall. I'll begin early this morning while my mind and body are fresh. If I wait until afternoon, there's no guarantee of anything other than more mistakes. No doubt, I'll ride with Sargie partway late this morning and walk the miles back home. 

Got to keep that body moving!

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

In the mountains, high above Sitka, Alaska

Look what the cat dragged in late Saturday morning

April 7, 2019 - Sunday morning

38 degrees/FOGGY/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Today's weather conditions remind me of a time when I lived in Sitka. I'd been out for several days on the boat, anchoring each night in one far away bay or the other. It was clear and beautiful the night before my scheduled departure.

I awakened the next morning to fog so thick that I could barely see the bow of the boat from the cabin.

There was nothing to do but stay in place. By noon, when it became evident that the fog would remain all day (and with a forecast of several more) I put my trust in electronics and made my way back to the harbor using only the chart plotter, GPS, and a prayer. 

Four hours later, as if by magic, the mouth of the harbor opened before me. 

... and people ask why I miss Alaska

Since that time, I've referred to extremely foggy mornings as Sitka days.

Today is definitely one of them!



I'd just finished my morning walk and had come in from the shop when Macrea called, saying they thought they'd come over for the day. With rain falling, it was the perfect day for a good visit, especially when Hambone is included.

We went out for a late lunch and spent the rest of the day either goofing around or watching a movie. Since Hambone didn't like our taste in cinema viewing, he opted to watch one of his own.

What goes with a good movie? Why, popcorn, of course! I performed a bit of my culinary magic and made copious amounts for everyone.



Grady is so proud to show us some of his new physical skills. As an almost-five year-old, he's still discovering what his body is capable of. Naturally, not to be outdone, Pawpaw had to match him and then one-up the poor kid.

Unfortunately, Pawpaw occasionally forgets that he's on the downhill slide towards 70 and no longer a spring chicken. 



There's a head stand in there somewhere.

With popcorn eaten, headstands attempted, and movies watched, the day drew to an end. We asked if Hambone might spend the night, so poor Daddy went home alone. The last I heard, he and poor Mommy were planning on suffering by spending a big person's night out.




We played math games last night on the computer, watched the movie Boss Baby, and had a good time.

Yep, he's still Pawpaw's boy.

Poor Grady's had something similar to the croup and has to take treatments every four hours.



The boy inhales the medicated steam like a trooper then is ready to hit the floor running again.

Grandma Sargie will drop Hambone off in Iron Mountain on her way to work this morning. She works from noon until five. I'm going to go for my usual stroll then head out to the barn and finish nailing the front wall of the garden house. It's laid out on the floor and hopefully, if my measurements are correct, it should go together without too many problems. Other than that, I'll work on the St. Bernard. It's two pieces short of being ready to paint. Should all that be accomplished and there's still time, well, there's always the mandatory Sunday afternoon Grandpa nap.

The snow's disappearing at a rapid rate and I'm growing anxious to begin work on the new garden pond. Best case scenario, it will be two to three weeks, probably more, before any digging can begin.



It's time to think about breakfast and getting this day on the road.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

I think it's safe to say the snowmobiling season is about over for the year.

 April 6, 2019 - Saturday morning
37 degrees/cloudy/calm winds
Pentoga Road

It may be warm this morning, but is it ever dark and gloomy. Carl the Weatherman is promising the rainy weather will continue on through the weekend. 

Don't let that field deceive you. Under that bare surface lies a monster of mud, just sitting there, waiting to suck the boots off your feet.

I hate mud season, always have. It's the reason I began sugaring during the dark days of spring many many years ago, to give the sons and I something to do in the evenings. The kids at school were crazy, the teachers not much better. I know my mood was foul and it seemed all anyone thought about was the bright, warm, days of summer that lay ahead.

Nothing's changed over the years.

I need to take the carburetor off the engine on the backhoe, but I can't even get to it without sinking to my knees in the glop. The snowmobile needs to be moved towards the storage container, but it would plow mud and leave ruts the entire way.



The ground is beginning its annual heave as the frost fights towards the surface. Parts of the paved drive have dropped by two inches and even the front porch is heaving up and down making the railing and roof uneven. It should settle back into place in a few weeks, but as with everything in life, there are no guarantees. 

Ah, mud season. It's enough to drive a person crazy.

Speaking of crazy, things went well in the bob kitty den yesterday. Several of the sixth grade boys were feeling their oats early on, but after a man to boy talk in the first hour, they settled down for the day and education prevailed at Florence Elementary.

I need to remember that I'm not the only one going a bit stir crazy with this elongated mud season. 

Back home by mid afternoon, I changed from my city boy clothes into my grandpa duds, strapped on the hiking boots, and made my way to Pentoga Village. There's nothing like a good walk to put one's frame of mind right where it ought to be, at home on Pentoga Road.

Poor Sargie didn't walk in the door until past 9:30 last night. We had a short evening together as I was exhausted from my day with the kidlings. She needed to unwind, so I kissed my bride goodnight and made my way up the stairs. It was 1 AM before she joined me and past 2 before dropping off to sleep. I don't look for her to get out of bed too early this morning.

Today. What to do, what to do. Should I make my way to the shop and work on the St. Bernard? I could begin work on the garden house wall in the barn, or perhaps, go for an early morning walk. 

So many decisions, so little of me. If only you had my life, you'd understand. 

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

After a hard winter, things are a bit crooked on the corner of Pine and Forest in Pentoga Village, population zero.

S

My buddy Chief and me

April 4, 2019 - Thursday evening

37 degrees/cloudy/windy

Pentoga Road

It's been a busy one today and promises to be more so tomorrow at the elementary school.

I was out the door early this morning, bringing the backhoe up to the barn. It wasn't without its challenges, a low tire and an engine that didn't want to start in the 11 degree temperatures. The engine finally started and the tire was filled.

I parked the backhoe by a large snowbank, but couldn't resist moving a bit of snow from the shadows into the sun to hasten its melting. 

We left mid morning for Tom and Melinda's.

It was good to see our friend, Melinda, and we had a good visit.

Chief was also happy to see us. He and I had a good dog to human conversation and wrestled just a bit.

We later left and made our way to Iron Mountain to run a few errands. 

Back home, a few landscape timbers that were purchased at Home Depot were unloaded for Jambo.

Sargie and I took some time to adjust the light on the flag pole. It needed to be moved towards the top, so rather than climb a ladder and do a balancing act, I removed the pole, moved the light, then stuck the pole back into the sleeve where it came from.

The last chore of the day was to change the oil and hydraulic fluid in the backhoe. It felt good to get that done for the year.

Unfortunately, after sitting in the frigid temperatures all winter, it seems the gaskets have dried out or rotted in the carburetor. I'll work on it when the weather gets warmer and the ground dries a bit more. 

Sargie closes the Vision Center on Friday and I'll be teaching sixth grade at the elementary school.

It's time to get this uploaded and think about heading upstairs to bed. Tomorrow will be here before we know it.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

After a few days of springlike weather, winter suddenly returned.

 April 3, 2019 - Wednesday evening
28 degrees/clear skies/breezy
Pentoga Road

I guess I shouldn't complain about the weather. I've seen many big snow storms in April and as late as Memorial Day in May. The dusting we had last night just reminded us that Mother Nature can, and will, strike at any moment.

It was a bit nippy this morning during my walk. The wind was howling out of the north and the snow was slow to melt off the roads.



Walking past one seasonal camp, I noticed the snow had collapsed the ceiling of their portable garage.



They're in for a big surprise when they return this summer.

The rest of the day was spent in the shop cutting out the St. Bernard intarsia.




I was going to quit after, but since Sargie was working late, I decided to go ahead and begin shaping the pieces.

The next step will be altering the thickness of some to give the head more of contoured look. After that will come painting and gluing.

Thankfully, Sargie's off tomorrow. I'll be loading the four wheeler into the trailer and we'll take it over to Chief's owner's, Tom and Melinda's, and leaving it for its annual maintenance. 

I hope to bring the backhoe up to the barn before the ground thaws first thing in the morning. Sargie has warned me about leaving huge ruts in the lawn. She prefers I didn't. Hopefully, I can begin the annual maintenance on the backhoe this weekend.

If the weather's decent, I'd like to start building the front wall of the garden house at some point tomorrow. Should the weather not be nice, I'll try to finish the St. Bernard. Sargie's off, so we'll no doubt go for an afternoon ride.

It's one of the things we do best.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Cameras I have known and loved

April 3, 2019 - Wednesday

21 degrees/clear skies/windy

Pentoga Road

I think I'll start a new art exhibit and simply feature the cameras I've gone through during the past ten years. The bottom one was the last I had while still in Alaska. The top camera, the green model, has been my latest.

I've found that when one exposes these "tough" (water and shock proof) cameras to everyday elements and continual use, their average lifespan seems to be approximately two to three years. A normal pocket camera lasts me a few months or less.

It's the price one pays when he records his life in words and pictures.

Which begs the question of why do I do this?

I think it's habit more than anything. I've done it for so long that I don't know any alternative. Though I like people, I'm a private person. Mark, Jambo, or even Sargie, will tell you I tend to be a loner. 

After spending weeks, sometimes months, in the arctic without seeing another human, I'm very comfortable with my own company. I don't participate in Face Book or Instagram, Snap Chat, or any of those other social media things, and unless I know the person and/or number, I won't even answer the phone. 

But I take pictures and write for the world to see. 

Oh well, there's no rhyme nor reason. If they have any interest, at least the grandbabies will have something to read many years from now, long after their grandpa's dead and buried.

So, anyway, the good news is that Sargie purchased an insurance policy for the present camera when she initially bought it. We contacted the company a couple of days ago and have been approved for a reimbursement with which to purchase a new one. The green Fuji XP will be packed and sent away later today. Meanwhile, I'll limp by with the old yellow one. The quality of pictures may be less than stellar, but it's better than nothing.

Holy cow, what's this white stuff sitting on the deck?

A cold front came marching through last night with high winds, rain, snow, thunder, and lightening. In its wake, it left snow. Thankfully, today's high is to be in the forties and sunny. Bare ground should be poking through once again in a few hours.

Tuesday's stint spent with the Bob Kitties about wore ol' Mr. P out. I don't know if it was the phase of the moon, the alignment of the planets, or old age on my part, but this grandpa was dragging by day's end.

The older elementary classes were really good, fourth, fifth, and sixth grades.

The day began with fifth graders who were near perfect in every way, so much so that I hated to see them leave.

... but those in pre-K through third grades weren't nearly as calm. I'm fearful a few of the youngest ones saw their normally happy and jovial Mr. P in a different light than ever before. They simply didn't want to sit, be quiet, or get to work.

Pardon my raw use of the word, but chasing a dozen farts across a hot greased skillet comes to mind.

At one point, after bending over a little one's shoulder while trying to log her onto a computer, I stood up and said, "THAT'S IT!"

A possessed Linda Blair didn't have as scary a face as I must have had. I'm fairly certain my head turned around eight or ten times and it was only with great constraint that pea soup didn't spew from my mouth.

The three-foot tall bob kitties were frozen in place.

YOU SIT DOWN
YOU CLOSE YOUR MOUTH
YOU LEAVE YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF
YOU... YOU'RE  A BIG BOY, WIPE YOUR OWN NOSE
and you, whatever your name is... FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME, MY NAME IS NOT TEACHER.

I half expected Principal Neil to come in and perform an exorcism at any moment. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary.

The rest of the class time was quiet and orderly and evidently, most still had their self esteem intact as I got the usual leg hugs while the mini munchkins filed past, out of the room.

I was going to go for my usual walk last night after school, but decided a nice ride with Sargie to town would be better. We bought a few groceries, grabbed her Coke, and took our time coming back home.

Sargie closes tonight. I'll go for my walk later on then will probably spend the rest of the day in the shop. I fear it's too cold and windy to work on the garden house and I'm feeling particularly delicate. 

Even so, it appears to be a busy day ahead.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Testing the old camera last night. Hmm, maybe I'll try to avoid any nighttime shots.

April 1, 2019 - Monday evening
33 degrees/cloudy/calm winds
Pentoga Road

I'm totally bummed. My pocket camera is going steadily downhill. Actually, the camera works great, but the lens has a permanent film that is steadily growing worse. It appears there was a protective coating of some sort that is being worn off causing a blurry picture. 

When Sargie bought the camera for me, she also purchased insurance. I'll try turning in a claim and see what happens.

Today was a busy at the home of Bob Kitties. Class after class paraded through either the computer lab or library and I enjoyed all of them. 

The contractors were out today and finished putting in the window at the top of the stairs. Gone is the leaky octagonal pane, replaced by a triple pane, double hung, window. It's going to be nice this summer to be able to let the hot air out and especially, next winter when we won't have cold air flowing down the steps.

Sargie's off tomorrow, but I'll be returning to the elementary school for my second day of filling in for Miss Becky, the librarian.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...