A Day in the Shop: Grubbs Woodworks in Winston-Salem
You know, there’s something special about being from a small town like Winston-Salem. People here have a way of turning simple moments into memories. I mean, when you live in a community that celebrates the old with the new, even woodworking can feel like a story waiting to be told. That’s how it felt the day I decided to step into Grubbs Woodworks.
Now, I’ve always dabbled a little in woodworking. I’d set up shop in my garage, surrounded by bits of scrap wood, a trusty old table saw, and the smells of fresh-cut pine. There’s just something soothing about the sound of a saw slicing through wood, the way it fills your ears like music. But let’s be honest, I’m no expert. I mean, a couple of months ago, I almost made a complete mess of a project that should have been simple.
That First Project
So, there I was, dreaming of making a coffee table. I wanted a piece that screamed “handmade” and “rustic charm” all at once, maybe with some cool metal accents. I had my heart set on a mix of oak and walnut, something that would catch the eye and, you know, make me look like I knew what I was doing.
The day started off great—I had my coffee brewing, the smell of it wafting through the air, and the morning sun spilling through the garage door. I even put on my favorite flannel shirt, you know, to really feel the part. But reality hit me like a misplaced hammer when I poured over my initial sketches. I had to remind myself that drawing that layout didn’t mean I was gonna nail it. But hey, it can’t be that hard, right?
The first struggle was figuring out the dimensions. I thought I had my measurements down to a science, but somewhere along the line, I ended up with one end being two inches longer than the other. Classic rookie mistake. I stared at that wood, my heart sinking, thinking, “Surely, I’m better than this.” Nearly packed it in right then and there. I even considered buying a pre-made table. But, no, not today. I pushed through.
The Tools of the Trade
Back to the table saw. It’s an older model, a Delta, something my grandfather used before he passed it down to me. I can still hear the whirr of the motor and the slight buzz it makes when it’s running. It felt like he was right there with me, judging my cuts. But, I was determined. With the help of my trusty miter saw, I managed to get the legs just right. That part? That felt like a victory. When the cuts came together and the pieces laid out flush, I giggled a little.
Now, a buddy of mine told me about a new wood glue formula—Titebond III. Apparently, it’s waterproof and really holds up well. I was skeptical at first. I mean, glue is glue, right? But after a couple of hours waiting for it to dry and squeezing the edges together, I thought maybe my luck was changing. The sound of squeezing wood made me smile. And the smell? Oh, the smell of fresh glue mixing with sawdust took me back to my childhood—so comforting, really.
What Went Wrong
But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs. I had just started staining the tabletop and thought I was doing a great job until I realized I had missed a whole side. And let me tell you, it felt like a slap in the face. I almost gave up when the stain started running, looking like dark liquid despair pooling on the floor. At that moment, I could’ve sworn my wood and I were at odds. I just sat there, staring at my mistake, feeling sorry for myself.
But then I remembered the last time I felt like this. There was a time when my daughter, bless her heart, nearly tossed a whole bowl of glitter on a project I was working on. I laughed when it actually worked out in the end, despite thinking it was ruined. It reminded me that mistakes are just a part of the process. With a deep breath, I sanded down that messed-up stain and started again.
Finding Joy in the Mess
Somewhere between flipping through my Dad’s old tools and wrestling with finishes and stains, I realized that woodworking isn’t just about the end product. It’s a journey—messy, frustrating, beautiful. The sound of the sawing, the smell of the wood, even the itch of wood dust creeping up my arms became part of that journey. And, honestly, it’s about the pride of knowing you made something with your own hands, even if it doesn’t turn out just right.
By the time I step back and admire that finished coffee table, it bears the marks of my labor. Scrapes? Sure. The uneven stain? Maybe. But it tells a story of trying, failing, and trying again.
The Takeaway
So, if you’re thinking about diving into woodworking or really any hands-on craft, just go for it. Don’t aim for perfection, because you’ll drive yourself nuts. Embrace the mess, laugh at the mistakes, and toss out the idea of being an expert. Just get your hands dirty, and let the wood take you on a ride. Build something, even if it takes some twists and turns along the way.
After all, it’s the journey that makes the craft, not just the end result. Cheers to that!
