My Journey in Writing, Ranting, and Woodworking

The Arthurian Legends didn’t mention the court jester.  His name was Albion ‘the feeble’ and when he was young, spent countless hours amusing himself, as the other children seemed not to be interested in playing with him.  He was lonely at times, but not often, mostly he was fascinated by life.

Albion didn’t spend all of his childhood alone though, he would visit Blancheflor, who was known to be a witch that lived deep in the forest.  Blancheflor was definitely a witch, people would say, because she had never married and had lots of chickens.  Albion would try to defend her, pointing out correctly that everyone had lots of chickens.  It usually fell on deaf ears, so after a while, he just stopped trying.

Her cottage was small, sturdy, and near a tiny pool of water at the base of a waterfall.  The forest was thick but fore the clearing next to her cottage, where the garden would grow and the chickens would wonder about, generally in good spirits.  Albion thought that her chickens were the happiest chickens he had ever seen.

Blancheflor was a friendly lady, who simply preferred to be self sufficient, to someone’s wife and care taker.  She didn’t mind living alone, but enjoyed it when Albion visited.  He would tell her stories and she would teach him about gardening, chickens, and tried to answer questions, as they arose.  He had a lot of questions.  His father was a carpenter and his older brothers helped their dad in the shop.  Albion wasn’t old enough to help, or that is what they would tell him.

He did like to fiddle around with the tools though.  He made Blancheflor a tiny box and she gushed over it.  One day he decided he wanted to make her something better.  He got his mind set that she needed a tiny table.

Albion’s mother made sure that all the boys could read, she was a very clever woman.  She didn’t like carpentry, but did like to write, so she would create scrolls of instructions about different types of projects.  They had developed quite a library, and there were scrolls and papers everywhere.  The brothers and his father would turned to them often.

Albion began looking through stacks of papers and boxes of scrolls, looking for something about table making.  He found some information on large trestle tables, but that wasn’t what he wanted.  He read for hours and hours, but didn’t find anything.   The next day he continued again, sitting at the desk, below a drawing, neatly framed, simply titled, “Table”.

A few hours later and he suddenly noticed it.  It had, quite literally, been in front of him the whole time.  It was a drawing for a tiny table, which his father had made for his mother, before they were married.  It had been on the wall, over the desk, for his entire life.

He chuckled to himself.  Then he chuckled out loud.  He didn’t feel stupid, well not too stupid, he felt silly.  His brother came in and saw him laughing alone and he told him the story.  His brother found it funny too.

He told the story at dinner, and though his mother didn’t approve of him spending so much time with Blancheflor, all found the tale delightful.  It was the first time Albion had caused laughter to bubble up from his family, and to him, it was more beautiful than the waterfall at the cottage.

That day changed his eyes forever.  They didn’t just take in the world, they devoured it.  He looked at every thing around him differently.  There was wisdom and humor all about he didn’t want to miss a thing.

Albion made his friend the table and she put the tiny box on it.  She liked his story too.  He became more popular with the other kids.  He was funny and they changed their mind about him.

Year later, at court, after he had entertained everyone, he overheard the King discussing a new room in the castle.  He was well liked by the King and when he mentioned that his brothers and father would be very capable of handling the commission, the King sent for his family.

The King wanted a large table with 3 sides of equal length.  Albion suggested, humbly, that a circular table would look better.  The King agreed.

Last night I got to work on some table legs.  In my mind’s eye, there is a tiny table, or more accurately, the vague idea of a table.  All I know at this point, is that it has four legs.  I knew a table that had 5 legs once, and it was the bane of my existence, so I will stick with four.

A piece of rough cut hard maple was sitting in the basement and I quickly lopped off the bad end, with my Japanese hand saw.  It is the thickest thing I have ever cut with it, and to be honest, it was easier than I expected.  I love my Japanese hand saws.

There was one flat side, as I had previously, gone to town on it with my Jack plane.  I was pleased with how flat I got it, and this flatness made the other three sides and their unflatness, stick out.  I used Jeff the bandsaw, to shave off the other three sides.

Before I clean up the hard maple with my hand planes, I think they probably need a bit of sharpening.  It was late last night, so I decided to pour over the woodworking magazines I have piled all over my office, looking for an article which might give me guidance.  I did this for several hours and then again today.

When I gave up hope of finding something, I decided to work on the ikebana and apply some finish.  I did a coat and then thought it might be good to do some reading from my finishing book.  In hind sight, I probably should have done the reading first, but I digress.  I knew exactly where the book was, as I have a stack of woodworking books near my desk.  It was on the bottom of the pile.  The book which was second from the bottom is entitled, ‘Tables’, by Anthony Guidice, from Taunton Press.

It is Awesome!  I had forgotten that I had bought this book earlier in the summer.  I started to read it and now I am really excited about making a tiny table.  I did laugh at the folly of looking through magazines for one article, when I had an entire book on the subject.  But like the fool in Arthur’s days, I can see the humor in life, and I like funny hats.