My workshop isn’t much, but there’s all the basic tools – saws, sanders, screwdrivers, and sandpaper. I have glue and clamps. Tools are everywhere – on hooks, in drawers, on shelves or scattered on my assembly table. It’s a small space, barely enough room for me and a few projects.
In winter, half the shop can be heated and in summer there’s a fan to kick up dust and provide a little air. I often check the temperature before venturing out there.
Time is one thing lacking – never enough time. I have a number of half finished projects and a longer list of projects I’d like to start. I’d like to create more, do more, but … well, life, work, stuff. There’s never enough time.
A few years ago I was asked to do a woodworking project at church. My answer was, “The only way I can work on your project is by not finishing someone else’s project.” Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do everything you want and all the things you’re asked.
Life isn’t like that. There are choices that we don’t want to make.
I’m not the greatest woodworker. Precision is always a challenge for me, both because I don’t have enough skill and I haven’t invested in the best of tools. The table saw fence isn’t parallel, the router table isn’t flat, the bandsaw blade bends, and I often miss add all those little fractions (quick, what’s half of 3/4 of an inch?). There’s no promise that anything delivered from my shop is flat, square or level.
Still, there’s satisfaction in working the tools to craft something. Reality rarely meets the fancy drawings I make. I know I am a better craftsman than I was ten years ago. I’ve learned a lot and have more confidence. I make plenty of mistakes and often am frustrated that my results don’t meet my ideals.
The only real goal I have is doing what I can and being able to say, “I made this.”