Melozi by Michael Travis

Author:Michael Travis
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781594331510
Publisher: Publication Consultants
Published: 2012-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

As I entered the lodge in the early morning, Pat was busy making breakfast. She smiled at me as I came to the kitchen and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

I sighed internally with relief. Her voice held no animosity over last night’s discussion. I shrugged and answered, “Okay. I slept a little longer than usual, though. I didn’t pick any blueberries for breakfast.”

“That’s all right,” replied Pat. “ I’m getting kind of sick of blueberries. A day or two without them would do me good. How does cornbread muffins and cereal sound to you this morning?”

“Sounds fine.” I helped set the table and Pat laid the food out. I inhaled the cornbread and washed it down with canned milk.

After breakfast as we were putting away the dishes, I asked Pat, “What do you have planned today?”

Pat thought for a moment before replying. “I’m going to set up the back bedroom in the lodge in case we get visitors. Then I need to wash clothes. So, I will need you to start up the generator and pull the washer machine out.”

I nodded and answered, “Okay. I’ll be shoveling sawdust by the mill. Please come and get me when you are ready.” Then I gathered up my gear and headed out for the day.

As I walked around the lodge to the mill, Happy joined me. High grey clouds covered the sky and a cool breeze blew out of the north. This meant fewer bugs and less sweat while I shoveled sawdust into the trailer. Around ten o’clock, my back began to ache. As I paused to catch my breath, I saw Pat walking from the lodge to me. “Hey, Mike,” she called, “wanna take a break and help me set up the washer machine?”

“Sure,” I said as I sank my shovel into the sawdust and left it. Pat could not have come at a better time. I was beat. I followed Pat to the old cabin and wiggled the tub washer machine out of its crevice. Then I strung the extension cords between the generator and the washer. After I plugged everything together, I told her I would start the generator and she would be all set.

A thought struck me as I entered the shop. Why not charge up the sawmill battery while Pat was washing clothes? So I continued down to the mill with the wheelbarrow and retrieved the battery. Within a few minutes I connected the battery to the alligator clips that led to the generator. I gave the generator a last-minute check before firing it up. The oil level was acceptable, but the fuel was low. Knowing Pat was waiting, I quickly grabbed the gasoline can and poured the fuel into the tank without a funnel. I sloshed a little fuel around the intake and it dribbled down to the support timbers below. The spilt gas did not worry me. It’s not much, I thought as I put the can away and secured the fuel cap.

I grabbed the starter cord, wrapped it around the crank, and set the choke.

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