My Journey in Writing, Ranting, and Woodworking

Not every day lends itself well to a funny or entertaining post.  This days is one of those.  The ikebana pieces received a healthy dose of sanding, followed by a lovely coat of tung oil.  The picture shows how I didn’t apply the tung to the interior of the center piece, because there wasn’t any good reason to do so.

I like how the picture shows the before and after tung oil.  I am looking forward to applying the water based top coat, as it is something new.  If I am to do a proper self analysis, and I think it is important to do so, every once in a while.  I would have to say that this project isn’t adding as much to my woodworking knowledge base, as I would like.

It is possible that I have gotten comfortable with the skills I learned in the building of boxes.  I really need to move on to building something with a drawer, possibly with legs.  It is this way before each great leap forward in skill.  I fret about it for a long time, then finally get the nerve.  In my basement there are lots and lots of walnut boards, which I am sure, would love to be turned into something with a drawer and legs.

There is an old story, from an ancient village, near a mountain pass, far from other villages.  The elders of the village all had unique skills.  There was one man, tiny in stature, who was often underestimated, but only for a few seconds.  Those who came to the village, for trouble, thievery, or to steal a bride, would stand before the frail looking man.  They would laugh at his defiance, but only for a moment, then they would lie dead.  He was a great samurai.

There was a woman, who many said was over one hundred years old, who would cook meals so satisfying that she could make all do her bidding, just for the chance to be invited to dinner.  There was also a wise old carpenter.  He would build houses, from wood, held together with joints so complicated that few apprentices could master them, and they would often leave after only a year or two of study.  Only one had ever completed the apprenticeship, his name was Koh, which meant autumn red.

Koh was different than the others.  He wanted to understand and master every element that the master taught, but that was not enough.  He wanted to make his own discoveries.  He thought about his craft when ever he wasn’t practicing.  The master knew that he must push him, to keep the  young apprentice engaged, so he did.

And the results were magnificent.  Many years later, the young apprentice was an elder, there was another woman who cooked, he built her house, and she made him fat and happy.  There was a warrior too, and this is how the village would remain, generation after generation.

I don’t think of this story often, mostly because I just wrote it, but when I do, I realize that I must not stop learning…or snacking.  Perhaps it is time to look for board which might want to become some legs?