My Journey with DeVries Fine Woodworking
You know, there’s something about the scent of freshly cut wood that feels downright magical. Like, I can’t be the only one who gets all dreamy when that cedar dust fills the air. It’s funny; I never imagined myself getting into woodworking. I mean, I grew up making forts out of sofa cushions and running around the yard pretending to be a lumberjack, but that was just kid stuff, you know? Fast forward a couple of decades, and here I am, sipping my morning coffee, recalling how I stumbled into this glorious mess called DeVries Fine Woodworking.
The First Project: A Birdhouse Gone Wrong
So, the first big project I thought I’d tackle was a birdhouse. Simple enough, right? You’d think. I went to the local lumber yard—Denny’s down on Main Street, if you’re familiar—and picked up some cedar. It smelled so good, like a warm hug from nature. I grabbed my trusty old circular saw, which, let me tell you, has seen better days. I swear it’s been around since the Nixon administration. I was feeling all inspired and full of bravado.
But here’s the thing: as soon as I started cutting those pieces, I realized I had no idea how to measure properly. I can’t even count how many times I measured twice and still cut wrong. Denny would’ve probably laughed at me if he saw my struggling self—after all, it was just a birdhouse. “How hard can it be?” I thought.
I almost gave up there, sitting in the garage, those perfectly good pieces of wood shriveled in disappointment. But then, I took a deep breath, stepped away from the saw, and just sat there for a minute, listening to the birds chirping outside. Kind of inspiring in its own way, I suppose. I thought to myself, “I can’t let a little bit of wood beat me!” So, I went back, made a few adjustments, and by some miracle, it all came together!
The Realization: Tools Matter
After my glorious, albeit lopsided, birdhouse debacle, I got a bit more serious about this woodworking racket. My brother gave me his old miter saw—trusty and reliable, if not a bit rusty. That thing changed everything. I can still remember the sound it made when I powered it up for the first time; it was almost like a lion’s roar, all powerful and a little intimidating. I must’ve cut my fingers a few times just flexing it, figuring it out! But once I got into the groove, the cuts were so clean, you could practically eat off them.
You know, the best part was how much my woodworking improved with a few better tools. Like that smell of freshly sanded mahogany—ahh, that sweet aroma! It seems ridiculous, but I could sit there, just breathing it in, feeling like I’d turned into some kind of woodworking wizard. I could whip up beautiful shelves and even a coffee table that, if I squinted, almost looked like it came from one of those fancy stores. Almost.
A Nerve-Wracking Commission
Then came the moment where I was asked to make a dining room table for a friend’s new house. It felt surreal, but I was excited! I confidently walked into my garage, which was still cluttered with sawdust, scrap wood, and maybe a half-eaten sandwich from last week—don’t judge. As I was picking out some oak, I felt a wave of dread wash over me. What if it came out crooked? What if it didn’t hold up? What if my entire life had been a lie, and I was just a fraud pretending to be a woodworker?
But that’s the thing about woodworking. Sometimes you just gotta dive in. I laid out the pieces in a sort of “game plan” but, honestly, it looked more like my kids had a craft day gone wrong. Every time I sanded it down, I’d freak out over little blemishes, telling myself it was hopeless, that I’d just end up spending a ton of money on lumber for a project that would probably end up a total mess.
Yet somehow, through a lot of trial and error—like how I tackled the finish with a natural oil and wax that smelled like a spices, heavy with hints of cedar and nutmeg—it all came together. I laughed when it actually worked and even had my friend drooling when I finally took it over.
The Takeaway
You know, every knot and grain in that table had a story behind it, just as every mistake I made shaped my journey as a woodworker. If you’re sitting there, contemplating picking up a chisel or perhaps tackling your first project, just go for it. Seriously. Don’t let missteps discourage you. Embrace them; they’re part of the deal.
Now, as I sit here polishing my skills while drinking this coffee, I appreciate not just the finished pieces, but the lessons learned along the way. I wish someone had told me this earlier. Just enjoy the process. Whether it turns into a beautiful table or a lopsided birdhouse, it’s all part of what makes this journey so special. And who knows? You might just find a love for woodworking you never expected.
So, pick up that saw and start cutting! You’ve got this.
