The tools are new, but the craft hasn't changed much in the last few centuries. Most days start with a hike straight out my door and into the mountains with my dog, Chica leading the way. The rest of the day is spent in the shop, hopefully crafting things of lasting beauty.
The modes vary: Loose and unhindered by practicalities in the design phase. The puzzle master/engineer while laying out the joinery. Carefully picking wood for stability and character. The drudgery of grunt mill work. Methodically laying out precise cut lines. Patiently creating the puzzle pieces. The satisfaction of seeing a piece first take form during dry assembly. Loosening up again to introduce curves and give the piece a human touch. The monotony of sanding. The sometimes terrifying race against rapidly (and irreversibly) drying adhesives. The appreciation of color and form as penetrating oils first bring the grain back to vibrant life. An ambivalent farewell as it leaves the shop for good.
...Or sometimes I'm just cursing at a piece of machinery that refuses to cooperate.
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