Coffee and Wood Chips: My Journey Through College of the Redwoods Woodworking
You know, I was sipping my morning coffee, just looking out at my half-finished woodworking project on the porch, and it brought back a flood of memories from my days at the College of the Redwoods woodworking program. Man, those were some wild times—both challenging and rewarding. I can still smell those freshly cut planks, and oh, the earthy scent of sawdust! Let me take you on a little trip down memory lane.
I remember walking into that shop for the first time, the afternoon sun streaming through those big windows, illuminating all sorts of tools just waiting to be picked up. I think my eyes were as wide as saucers. I had dabbled in woodworking before, of course—my dad had a workshop in the garage where I spent countless hours trying to build everything from birdhouses to the world’s flimsiest bookshelf. But let me tell you, that first day at the college was like stepping into a whole new world.
The Project That Almost Stopped Me
So, I signed up, and right away, the first project we had was a simple side table. Yeah, simple, right? Except for me, what should’ve been a straightforward project quickly turned into a nightmare. I picked out a beautiful piece of cherry wood—the kind of wood that practically glows with warmth. It had this rich reddish hue, and I was convinced it was going to be the pièce de résistance of my little living room.
Well, as I started cutting, I remember mismeasuring the legs. Like, you’d think after all those hours in the shop I’d know better, but nope. One minute I’m dreaming of this beautiful table, and the next I’m staring down at this hideously lopsided frame. I almost tossed in the towel right then and there. You know that feeling when you realize you’ve just wasted perfectly good wood? It hits different, like a punch to the gut.
Lessons Learned the Hard Way
I took a deep breath and remembered what one of my instructors had said, something about how every mistake is just a stepping stone. So, I dusted off my ego, literally, picked up my trusty miter saw, and went back to work. I cut new legs, carefully measuring this time, and you know what? It actually worked out. That cherry wood came together beautifully. I learned more from that blunder than I probably would’ve if everything had gone smoothly.
And oh, the sounds! The whir of the saw was like music to my ears, and it felt good to have shavings flying every which way. I can still hear the rhythm of the sanders buzzing, and it all felt so alive, you know? I spent hours shaping and planning, adding details I hadn’t even initially considered, like a little quarter round on the edges. I was proud, just proud, when I finally finished that table. It was like birthing a child—albeit a wooden one.
The Finishing Touches
Now, let’s talk about finishes for a second. I went down the route of Danish oil for that cherry wood, which, let me tell you, made it practically glow under the light. The application process itself was a bit of a learning curve for me, though. I thought I’d be squeegeeing it on nonchalantly, like they do in the videos, all smooth and easy. But no, I ended up with more of a streaky mess at first. Talk about frustrating!
Somewhere in that chaotic mess of trials, I learned that taking your time makes all the difference. Just like I was told back in class, patience is key. Eventually, I got the hang of it, and once that oil finally soaked in, it was just, wow. Barn doors could swing open, and they wouldn’t compare to how proud I felt staring at that table.
Finding Community Among the Shavings
And you know what else? The community at College of the Redwoods was something special. There’s just something about standing shoulder to shoulder in that workshop, all of us with sawdust in our hair and the smell of wood hanging in the air. We encouraged each other, laughed over our mishaps, and celebrated every little victory together. “You nailed that joint!” someone would shout, and you could feel the camaraderie in that moment. I’d never had that kind of support anywhere else.
There was this one guy, Peter, who had a knack for designing the most intricate joints. I mean, you’d look at his work and wonder if he had tiny elves helping him out! I struggled with dowel joints, let me tell you. I once spent so long on one joint, practically losing faith it would even work. But when it finally clicked, when everything came together and I saw what I could create, man, I was hooked.
The Final Piece
After a couple of semesters, I ended up building a small coffee table from reclaimed barn wood. It was rustic, imperfect, and had so much character. I remember the astonished look on my neighbor’s face when I brought it over. She kept running her hand over the surface, feeling all the textures and knots. It was like I had handed over a piece of my heart and soul in that table. A bit cheesy, I know, but true nonetheless.
So, here I am years later, still chipping away in my garage, fired up by every little thing I learned during those college days. It’s been a journey filled with frustration, but also joy—like waves crashing, with ups and downs, all meshed into one solid experience.
A Thought for You
If you’re sitting on the fence about diving into woodworking, or any craft for that matter, just jump in. It’s messy, it’s sometimes embarrassing, but you’ll learn so much about yourself along the way. I wish someone had told me that sooner, to embrace the mistakes and mishaps. Because, believe me, those are the moments where real magic happens.
So grab that cup of coffee, let the wood shavings fly, and don’t hold back. You might just end up making something unexpectedly beautiful.
