A Day in the Life with Watson Woodworks
You know, there’s something about the smell of freshly cut wood that just sets my mind at ease. It’s like this warm hug of nostalgia, mixed with a sprinkle of excitement. I still remember the first time I stepped into Watson Woodworks in Winston-Salem. I had this far-fetched notion that I could build something myself — like a real piece of furniture, not just a wobbly shelf that falls apart with a gentle nudge.
So, there I was, armed with nothing but a cheap set of tools I picked up at the local hardware store and a head full of dreams. My first encounter with the place wasn’t exactly glamorous. I mean, I thought I could just waltz in there and impress everyone with my “vision.” But, let me tell you, walking into a workshop filled with seasoned woodworkers, the kind with tattoos and sawdust-streaked overalls, made me feel a bit like a fish out of water. I almost turned around and left, thinking, “This isn’t for me.”
Picking the Right Timber
Eventually, I found my way to the lumber section, where rows upon rows of smooth, fragrant wood awaited me. There’s a certain beauty in the way oak looks, with its deep grain and sturdy feel, but, oh boy, it’s heavy! I desperately wanted to go for walnut because, well, have you seen walnut? It’s gorgeous, with that rich dark color and a silky texture, but my wallet had other plans. So, I opted for a nice piece of pine. It’s lighter and, let’s be real, kinder to my bank account.
As I picked through the stacks, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. Picking the right piece was almost like trying to find a partner — it needed to speak to me in some way, but mostly I was just hoping it wouldn’t splinter and cut me when I tried to work with it.
A Lesson in Humility
So, I took my trusty pine home one Saturday morning. With the scent of fresh coffee wafting in the air and Creedence Clearwater Revival playing softly in the background, I felt pretty darn confident. I had this vision of a rustic bookshelf, something that would make my living room feel more “me.” But, oh, did that confidence come crashing down faster than I could say “mitre saw.”
I thought I had it all figured out. "Just cut along the lines, it can’t be that hard!" I told myself. Let me tell you, that first cut? A disaster. I didn’t account for the fact that I had a cheap saw that was more suited for twigs than actual lumber. I almost gave up then and there. Honestly, I was heartbroken. I had plans, dreams, and all of a sudden, they were just wood chips on the floor.
The Sparks of Success
But just when I was about to toss the whole idea out the window, I stopped. My friend Tim, who’s got a lot more experience in woodworking, sat me down over beers that evening and gave me some solid advice. “If it doesn’t work the first time,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “try again and learn something new.”
Sounds simple, right? But that hit home for me. So, I invested in a decent circular saw and reserved my old one for garden projects. Slowly, with patience and (a lot) of trial and error, things started to come together. I learned how to properly measure and cut—what a concept! I even picked up a random tip about using a Japanese pull saw for those delicate cuts. Those little victories made me laugh because I felt like I was finally in the club, you know?
The Sounds of Woodworking
The more I carved, sanded, and pieced together, the more I fell in love with the process. There’s this beautiful rhythm to woodworking: the buzz of the sander, the thud of the hammer, and even the annoying yet familiar whine of my mom’s old vacuum coming to clean up the shavings. It’s almost meditative.
And when I finally put that final coat of wood finish on my shelf? I couldn’t help but just stand there and admire my work. It wasn’t perfect — far from it, actually. There were some little knots where I didn’t quite sand enough or some places where I got a bit too enthusiastic with the stain. But it was mine. Each flaw told a part of my story, a journey laced with mistakes and learning along the way.
Share the Joy
In the end, I realized that it’s not about creating something flawless. It’s about giving it your all and finding joy in the journey. I started spending weekends at Watson Woodworks, not just building but chatting with other woodworkers about their successes and struggles. We swapped tips and laughs, like old friends over coffee.
So if you’re thinking about diving into woodworking, or if you’ve been inspired by a project but feel unsure, just go for it. Trust me, you’ll make mistakes — I certainly did! But those moments of doubt often turn into the sweetest successes. Don’t overthink it. You might just surprise yourself with what you can create.
And who knows? You might end up with more than just furniture. You could find a piece of yourself in the process.
