Happy Thanksgiving 

from

Pentoga Road

November 26, 2020 - Thanksgiving Day

35 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Sitting here in these predawn hours, my mind is sifting back through the years, thinking of family gatherings at Grandma and Grandpa's, playing with the cousins, sleeping on the floor, good smells, better food, and laughter coming from every room. 

A year ago, Thanksgiving Day, we were nearly housebound by two feet of wet, heavy, snow. Without electricity or communications of any kind, we had been frantically trying to get to Indiana to see Mom the day before. Once power was restored, we found out that Mom, surrounded by three nurses who stood at her bedside, holding hands and softly singing a hymn, had passed away early in the predawn hours of Thanksgiving morning. 

I was horribly sad, yet thankful that her days of suffering were over.

I'm thankful today that Mom didn't have to live through the Covid virus. If her age related illness hadn't eventually ended her life, being shut off from her friends and family would have. 

But thankfully, in my time of grief and sadness, once the snowplow went through, we were able to make our way to Foster City to join the Milligans, all who had gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving. There were tears of sadness, but most of all, there was support and unconditional love to help a grieving son through the initial shock of losing his mother.

For Sargie and her wonderful family, those whom I call my family as well, I am grateful on this Thanksgiving day.

Although I didn't get a thing accomplished in the shop, Wednesday was a busy one. In fact, I didn't even enter my sawdust filled sanctuary. 

Returning home from my early morning walk, Sargie and I decided to go to Iron Mountain for a few errands. A present needed to be picked up from Home Depot and an oil change was past due in the Kia.

Entering Home Depot, Sargie first spotted our newest Christmas addition from far away.

"Oh look!" she said, as she walked up to the near life sized Santa. 

Initially, I thought she was kidding. After all, we already own a six foot Santa that sings and dances.

The twinkle in my Sargie's eyes signaled this was serious holiday business and that the jolly old elf would soon be calling Pentoga Road his new home.

Hmm, purchased and carted out of the store under one arm, I began to wonder how Santa would fit in our pint sized Kia. 

Sideways, lying down in the back seat?

Now that wasn't going to work. Santa's length exceeded the width of the car.

The back seat was folded down and Santa was inserted head first.

That didn't work either. 

I began wondering if I'd have to walk back into Home Depot to purchase a set of straps with which to fasten him onto the roof, or possibly put Santa in the front passenger seat and strap Sargie onto the roof.

One last attempt. Sargie and I gently lowered him through the hatchback, feet first. A gentle twist of his boots while carefully holding his head, arms, and presents. Would he? Could he? Was he?

At last! Santa, well, this Santa, anyway, would be trading in his sled and eight tiny reindeer for a trip to Pentoga Road lying down in an old sub compact Kia. 

After a quick oil change at the Jiffy Lube, we made our way back to Pentoga Road where ten million, billion, and thirteen, rutabagas were demanding our attention.

The rest of the afternoon was spent peeling, cutting, sorting, and slicing, our contribution to today's Thanksgiving meal.

It's become a Thanksgiving tradition that Sargie and I work together to put up the world's hardest root crop. We sang, gabbed, and muttered more than once and were careful to keep from slicing off our fingers.

Finally, cleaned and with all imperfections cut away, Sargie fed the pieces into a mechanical slicer while I provided the manual power. Slicing them first significantly reduces the boiling time.

Hours later, boiled and soft, the baggies were finally ready to be mashed. I used a mixer while Sargie added her secret herbs (we pronounce the H in herbs... remember? Try it, it will drive your friends, neighbors, and relatives, crazy.) and spices along with butter. The concoction was later put into a slow cooker.

Don't even begin to make fun of me for wearing my Packers jammies. I'd taken a shower while the baggies were cooking and other than mashing them, was ready to settle in for the evening.

The Thanksgiving rutabaga mission was accomplished for yet another year.

We'll be leaving later this morning for the Mighty Milligan Thanksgiving Celebration. My favorite part of today is walking into a home filled with great smells, better food, and best of all, one that is overflowing with hugs, kisses, laughter, and most importantly, family love.

Happy Thanksgiving from Sargie and me. May God bless.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Let's see, we now have a four foot Santa, another that is six feet tall who sings and dances, and several ranging anywhere from one to three feet in size. The North Pole has nothing on us.

If this ain't the truth!

Aunt Joanne sent this cartoon that best describes what this afternoon's activities will be in preparation for Thanksgiving.

November 25, 2020 - Wednesday morning

33 degrees/cloudy/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Boy oh boy, Aunt Joanne nailed that one on the head. After planting, weeding, raising, and harvesting a Thanksgiving's worth of rutabagas, today is when the knife meets the root. Sargie and I will be working up a dinner's worth of "baggies" later this afternoon in preparation of tomorrow's meal.

Tuesday's trek went well and with the road sanded, walking was much easier going up and down the hills. Since it snowed a couple of inches last night, today's stroll could be a different story.

Back home, Sargie and I enjoyed a great breakfast that included our daily faire, fried carrots.

We're in mourning as our white carrots are about to run out for the year. Yooper Brother Mark and Sheri introduced us to fried carrots and we've been hooked ever since. These late ones are so sugary sweet that it's like eating a stick of candy.

I built a fire in the outside wood furnace before Sargie and I took a late morning drive. She needed to stop by the post office for stamps before making our way onto McDonalds for her Coke.

The ice on the area lakes is slowly creeping across and all it would take is one or two really cold nights and there'd be enough ice to go fishing.

With the shop warmed to room temperature, I finished the mahogany dough bowl. Coated with food safe finish, it's ready to go.

The inside carving marks were purposely left. I notice that almost all dough bowls featured in the catalogues are the same to make people think they are made from wood, each individually by hand. Since this one was, leaving the marks was easy.

I hadn't published the following segmented piece that I finished a week ago. It was different than anything I'd ever made and I really enjoyed sawing, painting, and putting it all together.

Since I taught music for a year or two in my former life, making it allowed me to take a long trip down memory lane.

Talking about memory lane, Eileen sent a few pictures of her son and my former student, Andrew, currently living in Fairbanks, Alaska, who took a few photos while playing out in the bush this past weekend. I have hundreds, more like thousands, of photos exactly like these, including many of the Tundra snowmobile that was used for many years on my travels throughout the arctic circle.

Now almost forty years old, Andrew was one of my star trumpet players from sixth grade through high school when I taught in northern Maine. We took a guides course together while he was still in high school and riding back and forth together, we got to know each other personally. I was in the arctic when he transferred from the University of Maine to the University of Alaska - Fairbanks, where he eventually earned his PhD.

Beautiful, eh? I don't mind admitting that there's just a touch of jealousy and homesickness running through my veins right now. Alaska's not for everyone, but for those who love it, once one leaves, the longing to return never goes away.

Sargie worked on her Christmas cards last evening and I think she may have finished them. Though the practice of sending and receiving Christmas cards seems to be fading, the tradition is alive and well with my Sargie.

What could be more "Christmasy" while writing out Christmas cards? Snuggled in, wrapped in a blanket, sitting by the wood fire, snow gently falling outside...

Today's going to be a busy one. There's still one bowl and two puzzles to make in the shop before I can begin to relax. That doesn't include two presents that I'm not certain what they'll be. We may have to make a flying trip to Iron Mountain somewhere along the way, then there's that wagon filled with rutabagas to work up for the Mighty Milligan Thanksgiving feast. If only you had my life, you'd understand.

It'll soon be daylight. Time to go for my walk.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

 

Walking down into Pentoga Village after a light snowfall 

November 24, 2020 - Tuesday morning
24 degrees/cloudy/calm winds
Pentoga Road

Whew, I'm still trying to clear the cobwebs from between my ears this morning after getting a full night's sleep. One thing about it, I feel rested. There were even coals in the wood stove this morning which made rekindling the daily fire a breeze.

Lots of sleep/a stove of glowing coals... yep, it's going to be a good day!

Monday was one of recovery from last week and the weekend. Sargie spent most the day walking up and down the stairs washing sheets, changing beds, and doing laundry. Seems as though that washing machine and dryer were going all day.

I went for my walk then returned home to continue work in the shop. I was sorting through some of the wood Kyle has given me, scraps of mahogany from the cable car company where he works, and found two one inch laminated boards... just scraps, but far too good to go to waste.

Hmm, why not try to fashion a dough bowl?

I removed any wood not needed to make a rectangle, then ran that through the table saw at a 45 degree angle. Other than a few burn marks caused by a dull saw blade, I was happy with the blank.

Next came the difficult part, hollowing the inside using a special attachment on the angle grinder. I drew a rough oval by hand and began.

The last time I used the attachment, it took twenty minutes to fashion a bowl and two days to rid the shop of dust. Remembering that, I lay a piece of cardboard on the pavement in front of the barn and moved my operations out there.

In the end, we now have a red tinged pavement, but at least the mess is outside and not in the shop.

I always save sawdust, a trick learned from Mississippi Brother Garry, for later use. Mixed with epoxy or glue, it allows a repair to be made unnoticed, often blending in with the wood.

Some of the original glue, applied at the cable car company, had separated between the two pieces of wood, so I mixed sawdust and epoxy. Once everything is dry and sanded, it ought to be just fine.

I've been working on a spalted birch bowl in the lathe. The darn thing has a beautiful grain, but is so soft that it keep breaking apart. As I told Mississippi Brother Garry earlier this morning, there's room for about two more breaks before it become too small to fashion a bowl and ends up in the wood stove. 

One step forward, two steps backwards. Occasionally, I luck out and the opposite happens.

Today will tell the story.

This morning's writing almost came to you from beyond the grave. Sargie and I were coming home from Crystal Falls yesterday and were on a sharp curve just outside of Alpha, when we were met by a car driving at least fifty to sixty miles an hour on our side of the road.

I looked at the options and they were few, either be hit head on or take the ditch with a drop off of around ten feet.

I was just about to take the lesser of two evils, the ditch, when the car swerved at the last minute, just missing us by inches. I slammed on the brakes, keeping us from going head first into the ditch.

Sargie and I, both, sat there stunned. Of course, the drunken, crazed, driver, continued on. We sat in the middle of the road and after verbally thanking Baby Jesus, continued on home.

Last night was a quiet one spent in front of the television.

Today looks to be a carbon copy of yesterday, at least for me. I'm going for my walk then head out to the shop for a day of woodworking. Progress is slow, but sure, and I hope to get the Christmas presents and other goodies finished and out in the mail next week.

Time to go for a walk before the snow begins. One to three inches are in the forecast.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

My good friend, Eileen, sent this picture of their family that I had earlier fashioned into a puzzle.

 

November 23, 2020 - Monday morning

26 degrees/clouds/snow flurries/calm winds

Pentoga Road

Shh, what's that sound?

Or maybe I should reiterate and say, what's that lack of sound?

There's the crackling of the fire in the wood stove and the gentle buzzing of the refrigerator, but otherwise? 

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

It feels like an empty small town depot after the daily hundred car freight train has passed, flying down the tracks at the speed of light.

All that's left in these predawn hours are unfelt, yet very real, vibrations of a weekend filled with love and laughter.

Sunday morning began with a tag team match between Macrea and Shea, both frying multiple skillets of bacon.

When one wasn't standing at the stove, the other was often with Grandma Sargie, supervising from afar.

Mel and Macrea had previously mixed up a HUGE pan of egg bake, a concoction that contained thirty six eggs, broccoli, and other goodies too numerous to mention. Along with their sweet rolls and multiple pounds of bacon, we ate like the piggies we know how to be Sunday morning.

The big people cleared the table and resumed playing a game started Saturday night. I grabbed Hambone and we made our way to the rear of the property to check the trail cam.

The only wild animal caught on camera was a two legged one, the Hambonus Homo Sapien Crummy Kid.

Morning turned into mid afternoon and reality hit home as the gathering began to break up. Baby and munchkin goodies were thrown into bags and the front door could be heard opening and closing as multiple trips with full arms were made to the cars.

Meanwhile, Sargie was busy in the kitchen. Purposely preparing too much food for the weekend was part of her plan and she began shoveling leftovers into containers. 

There was no way she was going to let her little boys and their families go home empty handed.

With hugs, kisses, and I love you's, we stood in the drive waving and blowing kisses to the little ones. Thanksgiving on Pentoga Road had ended for another year.

It took some time to get the house back to normal. A toy here, a table there... pieces of a puzzle, a lone sock whose mate was already several miles down the road. With a smile on her face and loving memories already imbedding themselves deep within her soul, Sargie began putting everything back in place. 

Her boys and grandbabies had come home, even if it was for a short while. Mission accomplished!

We stole away later in the afternoon to get Sargie's daily Coke. Since my holiday belly is already growing at an alarming pace, I asked that she let me out four miles from home for my daily walk. 

The afternoon sun was setting and after all the noise of the weekend, I especially enjoyed walking through the silent woods.

I smiled as I trekked past the "Happy Face Barn," one of Hambone's favorite local landmarks.

I arrived home at dark with snow gently falling and silently gave thanks for the wonderful weekend. The only thing that could have made it better was if the four Pennington boys and their families could have been here as well.

Who knows, it could happen someday, to have all our sons, wives, and grandchildren together under one roof. A man, even an aging father and grandpa, can always dream. 

Tired out from a weekend of Grandma Sargie and Pawpaw hugs and kisses, Makenna never awakened to tell us goodbye.

Sargie has a whole list of pre Christmas things she says she'd like to do today. Me? I'm heading out the door for Pentoga Village and plan to be in the shop for the rest of the day making Christmas presents.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Hambone and cousin, Kylee, slept together on the futon. It's not hard to figure out who kicks in his sleep and hogs the bed as Kylee is sleeping on the very edge. 

 

November 21, 2020 - Saturday evening

17 degrees/clear skies/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I thought I ought to write this evening. This morning was a fast scribble as I raced the clock to get the pictures and a few words uploaded before the rest of the household awakened for the day. Tonight's not a lot better, but with the rest of the family playing a board game in the dining room, at least I have a more relaxed opportunity.

Today's been a busy one, most of it spent in the kitchen. We enjoyed French toast casserole for breakfast and everyone seemed to enjoy it. Made in a huge turkey roasting pan, we ate half this morning with the rest to either be eaten Sunday for breakfast or sent home with Sargie's sons and families. There's plenty left for both.

All of us were in the kitchen at one point or the other today. 

Hambone kept us entertained by making a domino train of falling pieces. 

Macrea and I sneaked out later in the morning and walked to the Brule River and back. It was a perfect day for a three and half mile stroll.

Jimmy kept everyone entertained. Nikki and Kylee, either one, couldn't believe that a wild bird would land on their hands for a short visit.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew was in the kitchen making last minute preparations for our early Thanksgiving dinner.

To say there was enough food would be a vast understatement. We talked, laughed, and ate until we could hold no more.

Everyone retired to the living room after the dishes were washed and all food put away. With full bellies, we all sat and tried hard to keep our eyes open.

Board games have been on tonight's agenda. I'm not a big game player, so after making a token appearance, I quietly left the dining room table and made my way to a quieter place.

Sunday will see much of the same as today. We'll be eating left overs and dividing any leftover food to send home. After a full week with Hambone, coupled with a very busy and fun filled weekend, it'll seem strange, but very peaceful, to return to our quiet lifestyle.

Time to get this uploaded and think about calling it a day.

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

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...