July 26, 2018 - Thursday morning
53 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

I was proud of Hambone yesterday. The kid can fall down, scrape both knees, bang his head, and a hundred other things and never once whimper, but let an ant or some other teeny creepy thing cross his path and he comes unglued.

There was a big ol' grasshopper in the pool swimming around. I snatched the locust off the surface and after showing my mini shadow that he was harmless, Hambone agreed to hold him. Sure enough, they parted as friends a few minutes later.

Most of Wednesday was spent playing around the yard and house. Hambone learned how to play baseball using a kick ball and he, Grandma Sargie, and I, had a pretty exciting time learning a few baseball terms such as: "batter up, it's a kick and a miss," and so forth. Running the bases was a bit more challenging, but with Grandma Sargie pointing him in the right direction, Grady finally got it. He also learned what being thrown out means. That wasn't nearly as much fun. 

We made a trip to town to run a few errands and later at home, grazed in the blueberry patch. 

Grady helped as we emptied the pool and put it away.



It was just an all-round quiet day.

Macrea stopped by later in the afternoon. We enjoyed hamburgers done on the grill before he and Hambone left for home.

A passing storm dropped another 1.2 inches of rain last night. It continues to be an almost perfect gardening summer. 

Sargie has a beautician's appointment this morning in Iron Mountain. I'll go with and have the oil changed in the Kia while waiting for my bride to be beautified. We'll pick up the Blazer in Iron River this afternoon and no doubt, Sargie will have a few things she wants to do around here in preparation for work tomorrow.

It's finally light enough that I can head down to the garden for my morning horticultural fix. Somehow, the coffee always tastes just a bit better if I'm sitting on the bench by the garden pond watching the sun come up.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

There's no better breakfast than peanut butter and jelly on toast (and the face and hands) washed down with cold milk while watching cartoons.

"Lets go surfin' now
Everybody's learnin' how
C'mon and safari with me...."

July 25, 2018 - Wednesday

57 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Shhh. Listen. Hear that?

That's right, if you were here at this very moment, you'd hear nothing, nothing but glorious silence.

That'll all change once Hambone's awake and hitting on all cylinders. At age four, he's a walkin', talkin', flurry of activity, just the way he should be.

Isabella and Sarah arrived midmorning yesterday. Grady was so excited when he awakened and discovered Isabella was coming to play. 

Hambone didn't know she was coming. We'd made that mistake last year of telling him the day before and he was up at 4 AM the next morning asking how soon Isabella would be here.

I'm unsure how two mini munchkins could get along so well and fit any more activity into one day than those two did yesterday.

Pat, Sargie's brother, stopped by for a visit and helped to solve a problem with my scroll saw. I was cutting when it suddenly stopped. We later found a blown fuse was the culprit. After a replacement was found along with a good cleaning and lube, it runs as good as new.

Pat asked if I could look on the internet for a supplier of parts for an old Navy battle lantern from the ship upon which he served during the Vietnam War. We found them.

It was afternoon before we made our way to the park. Armed with Happy Meals and surrounded by swings and slides, we had a wonderful time.

After climbing the ladder, Isabella was initially a bit hesitant to go down the slide. I put on my super hero outfit and it was Pawpaw to the rescue.

Oh oh, a log jam. Both munchkins thought it was the funniest thing to have me sit at the bottom so they could slide into me.

No trip to the park would be complete without swings.

After a full day of nonstop action, it was a very very very very tired Isabella who didn't want to go home. I've never seen two little ones bond so tightly. She and Grady had so much fun that she didn't want it to end.

I was proud of Hambone. Just before they pulled out of the drive, he crawled up into the truck and gave his friend a very sincere hug. My kind of man.

With the world suddenly much quieter, Grady watched a video on the computer, Sargie fought to keep her eyes open, and I sneaked outside to water the flower and strawberry beds.

The strawberries are sending out runners and the cosmos are about ready to bloom.

I was watering the ferns on the front porch when I heard a couple of squirrels in the garden.

Wait a minute! Those aren't squirrels, at least the four-legged kind. It was Grandma Sargie and Hambone raiding the pea patch!

Last night, Grady discovered the true joy of eating directly out of the garden. More importantly, he found that raw peas are delicious. 



Regardless what he was doing, feeding the goldfish or some other activity, Hambone kept wandering back to the pea patch in search of more.

The boy found more than peas while in the garden.




I told him he could eat all the blueberries he wanted as long as none went to waste.



Decisions, decisions. Life's full of them. Peas or blueberries? In the end, Hambone relished both.



With last week's rain along with warm temperatures, the garden continues to grow. Some of the sunflowers have surpassed ten feet and are still growing. My goal is for most to reach between fifteen and twenty feet.

 Needless to say, no one had any problems sleeping last night on Pentoga Road. I think I'll get this uploaded and head out to the garden, see if I can find any blueberries to put on my cereal for breakfast. 

The tomato plants, behind me, on my right, are almost six feet tall.

Today's agenda? Who knows? Sargie still has today and Thursday off. I heard rumors that Isabella and Sarah might be coming back out later to play.

Other than that, I think I'll just take it as it comes.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

July 23, 2018- Monday evening
70 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

I recently saw a video of hummingbirds being fed by hand from a small bowl. I took that as a personal challenge that I would be able to do the same. Hummingbird training began this afternoon.

I stood in the sun for quite a while holding the feeder before the first hummer mustered enough nerve to take a sip.

That's step one. I'll continue to work with the munchkin birds in an effort to feed them by hand.

After the usual morning walk, I made my way to the garden where blueberries were picked along with bean, carrots, and beets.



The beans are beginning to play out, but the beets and other goodies are just coming on. So far/so good.

Time was spent cleaning the floors in the house. As Sargie would say, "they're spiffy."

I was in the shop for most the afternoon. My first task was to clean the mess from making the stick fisherman before I started the next project. 

Sargie picked up Hambone after work and they arrived home late this evening. Poor little guy was sound asleep and never did wake up. The boy went directly from his car seat to bed. 

Tomorrow's a big day on Pentoga Road. Isabella and her mommy are to arrive sometime mid morning. The wading pool is filled and we're planning a picnic and trip to the park.



It's bedtime. I think we're going to need all our energy for tomorrow's activities.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

The choke cherries are ripening

Patterns and projects are laid out all over the shop

 July 23, 2018 - Monday morning
57 degrees/clear skies/calm winds
Pentoga Road

That was a short hiatus. Problem is, I love taking pictures and when I write either Mom, Garry, or Aunt Joanne, their daily emails, I like for them to see what I've been doing. 

This whole online blogging thing started way back when Dad was so sick and I was living in the arctic. Dad was unable to travel, so the internet was the easiest way to share pictures with him and Mom. Digital cameras hadn't been out that long and the folks had just bought their first computer along with dial-up internet. 

Garry and I have written each other daily since BEFORE email became common. We left each other messages on a sheet music company's bulletin board meant for band directors. That was well over thirty years ago. 

Aunt Joanne, a close family friend since the boys were small, and I, have written daily for twenty years or more.

Then there's Uncle Bert and Eileen, Susan in San Diego, Scotty in Atlanta, Fay in Australia, Norriene in Pennsylvania, Freddie who lives on Meador Road in Mississippi, all friends and part of my digital family. It's easier to upload images than to attach them with individual emails. 

I can't forget Marion over in Iron Mountain who becomes this person I don't know if she doesn't get her daily fix of pictures and writing online. I swear her head turns around eight or ten times as she spews green pea soup across the room. 

The problem with being retired and writing a blog is that it's so darn hard to come up with something new, different, and exciting, to write about each and every day. Let's face it, I lead a pretty ho hum existence. There's only so much a guy can blather on about when he and his bride live alone out in the boonies with only the ticks and skeeters, lions, and tigers, and bears, for company. 

Though my political and spiritual values are fairly well known, I don't want this to become a contentious website. I much prefer it remain the visual writings of a retired school teacher who loves life.

I enjoy taking pictures and love to go back through the years and look at them, compare one gardening season to the next, the seasons, friends and relatives. They and the writing have become a public diary and I guess that's not a bad thing. 

So maybe if I get tired of it all or have no pictures and nothing to say, I'll just skip an occasional day to get recharged. 

Sunday was a busy one. Sargie sat high atop the mower for almost four hours while I trimmed the yard using the push mower. 



I later moved to the garden and picked peppers and more cucumbers.

There should be enough cucumbers by week's end to make another batch of pickles and peppers for the first batch of pickled peppers. I can only hope Peter Piper will be available to help.

While Sargie was cutting away on the mower, I used the leaf blower to clean the drive then spent quite a while repairing cracks in the blacktop from this past spring's frost heaves. The major ones are filled and I'll soon be ready to seal the entire drive, not a small chore. My intention is to do half in the next week, then the other half next month.

I worked in the shop late in the afternoon and finished the first stickman.

I had a lot of fun with this guy and his pup and hope to make an entire series of stick people. Of course, I have no idea what I'll do with them, but they are fun.

Sargie seems to think I should write a series of stories around each. We'll see what the deep, dark, cold, days of winter bring in the writing department.

The fish and frame are made from aged, raw, hickory, that Yooper Brother Mark brought back from his plant in Kentucky. I've cut steel with a hack saw that was softer than that wood, but the effort was worth it. 

Sargie and I both slept well last night. She had every reason to be tired. I didn't work nearly as hard as she did yesterday, but slept every bit as good. 

Sargie closes the Vision Center this evening, but has the next three days off. Hambone will be coming home with her tonight as tomorrow will be a special day. Isabella and her mommy are coming out to play for day. We have a trip to the park and a picnic planned, plus there may be a blueberry or two to pick and some goldfish to feed. It's a wild life we lead here on Pentoga Road. 

I'm going for my usual walk this morning then I need to pick blueberries before returning to the shop. I also need to fill the wading pool with water and I told Sargie I'd sweep, wipe, and vacuum the floors today. Seems there are more than enough projects on the agenda to stay busy for quite a while.

Time to get this day started.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

The cover of Esquire Magazine?
No, it's Matt and Jessica, my son and daughter-in-law.
I believe they were on a "business trip" to Napa Valley

July 21, 2018 - Saturday morning

62 degrees/cloudy/breezy

Pentoga Road

Indeed, we received over an inch of much needed precipitation yesterday with 100% chance of more falling today. It looked iffy at first as the clouds went around us, but just before noon, we struck gold and the heavens opened wide.

I talked with brother-in-law, Ross, who said that Iron Mountain received less than half an inch and Foster City didn't get any. I feel fortunate to have gotten what we did.

Friday morning was spent in the garden, mostly picking blueberries.

I've been watering them regularly and it now appears this year's harvest will be close to last year's record.

Some of the branches are so heavy with berries that they are sagging to the ground and in danger of breaking.

I'll pick gently until the end of the season.

Just to make certain it would rain, I spent almost an hour watering the garden after picking the berries. I knew for sure that if I irrigated, rain was almost guaranteed. Sure enough, as soon as the spigot was closed, the first drops began to fall. 

Sargie had assigned a couple of honey-do jobs, the main one washing and cleaning the refrigerator in the garage.

Amazing how a refrigerator can get so dirty when all it holds are beverages and worms. Unfortunately, a container of worms was forgotten and left in there last fall. 

Something really bad smelled in the garage this spring once the temperatures warmed. I didn't realize where the odor was coming from until I opened the refrigerator door.

Not wanting to deal with the stench at the time, I removed the worms, swiped at the goo, closed the door, and pretended to not smell a thing.

Sargie's reminded me on an almost daily basis that real cleaning involves soap and hot water along with some elbow grease. 

Friday was the day. We currently have the cleanest garage refrigerator on Pentoga Road.

Once the rain ceased, I toured the garden and was amazed how fast everything is growing.

I'll be pickling peppers this coming week. The hot varieties are the best I've ever grown. Unfortunately, they aren't as hot as I'd prefer them, but they won't go to waste.

The cantaloupes are doubling in size every couple of days. I know I shouldn't get my hopes too high, but I'm already salivating at the thought of enjoying a real juicy, sweet, home grown melon late this summer.

I know. All it takes is one early frost like we had three years ago when the gardening season ended  the first week of August or an overly enthusiastic deer willing to brave the 9,000 watt electric fence. Still, where there're melons, there's hope. 

The remainder of the day was spent in the shop. My intentions were to clean the work bench and put all the tools away. What I really did was plop in the recliner under the pretense of watching a movie. An hour later, I awakened, then was content to doze for half an hour more while listening to the rain fall through the open window just a couple of feet from my head. 

Days like yesterday are made for enjoying a nap.

Sargie was home early last night and we enjoyed a big, fresh, garden salad, along with Filets' du Yooper, better known as brats.

Sargie closes the Vision Center tonight, but is off tomorrow. With 100% chance of rain forecast, there'll be no morning walk. 

No doubt, I'll be heading to the shop. I'd like to get a few Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, items made early this year so there's not the usual holiday rush.

It's time to step away from living in a goldfish bowl and enjoy a hiatus from the blog. My rule is: when it becomes a chore, it's time to take a break.

No doubt, I'll get shutter finger and the urge to write after a few days. After thirty-five years, the habit of writing is hard to break, but until then, I'll simply remind you that... 

A man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...