Finding My Way with Southern Woodworks
I’ve always had a thing for wood. I can’t really explain it, but there’s something about the smell of freshly cut cedar that makes me feel alive—like I’m a part of something bigger when I’m working with it. Anyway, last summer, I found myself in a bit of a pickle while diving into a project at Southern Woodworks in Chesapeake, Virginia. It was a whole bunch of trial and error, but that’s where the best stories come from, right?
The Dream Project
So, I had this grand idea to build a custom picnic table for my family. You know, one of those classic, sturdy tables that can withstand the chaos of hot dogs flying and kids running around? I envisioned spending lazy summer afternoons with my folks gathered around it, laughing and enjoying life. Sounded easy enough, right?
I marched into Southern Woodworks with a sense of purpose. That place is like aladdin’s cave for a woodworking enthusiast—wood stacked high, the aroma of varnish thick in the air. I remember running my hand down a line of 2x4s, feeling their texture, and inhaling deeply. I settled on some beautiful, rough-sawn oak—there’s something about oak that just feels solid, you know?
Reality Hits
Now, I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not a woodworking pro. I’ve tinkered here and there—a lot of half-finished projects scattered around my garage like ghost stories. But I figured, this time, I’d really put in the effort.
I started off strong, measuring twice and cutting once, or at least, that was the plan. I had my trusty miter saw—nothing fancy, just a solid Craftsman that I’d picked up at a yard sale years ago. But, let me tell you, halfway through my cuts, I noticed I wasn’t so same-old same-old with my measurements. I had one board too short. Classic rookie mistake, right?
Well, I’d made this big show about buying that oak, and now here I was staring at a pile of cut wood that didn’t match. I almost dropped my coffee when I realized it. Ugh, why can’t I just get it right?
Learn by Doing
That’s when I had to take a step back and breathe. I know you’re supposed to have patience in woodworking, but the whole thing began feeling more like a chore than a joy. I even considered giving up. But something kept nudging at me, whispering that I could just fix it. So, I set off to Southern Woodworks again.
This time, I needed a longer piece, and while I was there, I got distracted by the live-edge wood. Oh man, it looked so beautiful—natural curves that would make incredible benches. I left with double the wood. A little more pricey, but sometimes ya gotta splurge, right?
The Creation
Once I got over that hiccup, things started rolling along smoother than I expected. I had some sandpaper in one hand and a can of wood finish in the other, and the oak just glowed as I shaped it. I even put on some music, let the sounds wrap around me, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful.
I remember the first time I slapped on that finish—it was an oil-based minwax, just the classic stuff. The smell was strong, but I didn’t mind. I could practically taste the summer BBQs in the air. When I noticed the grain popping out, I’ll confess, I was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. I laughed, actually; it really worked.
But then came the assembly, and this is where I really learned to appreciate the saying, “measure twice, cut once.” By now, I had my dad’s vintage hand drill with a bit that’s older than I am, a little rusty but still had that solid feel. I went to drill in the legs, and of course, I misaligned them. I’ve heard of pocket holes, but let me tell ya, it was getting late and my brain was turning to mush. I almost tossed the whole thing out at that point.
But then, I sat down, had a sip of coffee, and thought, “What would Dad do?” He always had that knack for solving any problem with a bit of elbow grease and some determination. So I grabbed a clamp, adjusted what I could, and hoped for the best.
Result
When the thing finally came together, you wouldn’t believe the satisfaction I felt. The kids weren’t all over it yet, but I could just picture the hot-dog-feasting fest that would happen soon enough. We sat at that table, the sun setting over the backyard, and I felt more proud than I had in a long time.
Takeaway
Looking back, there were so many moments I could’ve let frustration win, but somehow I pushed through. Southern Woodworks may have just been a place to grab lumber, but it turned out to be the backdrop for a lesson in resilience for me. And hey, now whenever I catch the scent of oak, I remember that picnic table and all the little things that came together to create it.
So, if you’re sitting on the edge wondering whether you should dive into a project—maybe you’ve got a wild idea or a rustic piece that’s been waiting for some love—just go for it. I wish someone had told me this earlier; it’s not about perfection but about enjoying the journey. Just stay curious, pick up the tools, and let the wood guide you. You won’t regret it.
