Woodworking in Lebanon: A Humble Journey
You know, it’s funny how life takes you to unexpected places. One minute, I’m just that guy in a small town, minding my own business, and the next, I’m elbow-deep in splinters and sawdust in my garage. And I’ve got Lebanon to thank for that—yep, you heard me right. Not the country, but the wood!
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m no master craftsman. I’m just a regular Joe who stumbled into this world of woodworking. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on a piece of Lebanese cedar at the local lumber yard. Man, that wood was something else! It had this rich, warm hue, almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. When I ran my fingers over it, I felt something shift in me, like I was meant to turn this beautiful piece of timber into something more than just lumber.
The First Project: A Fumbled Start
I thought, “Hey, how hard can it be?” So, I grabbed a couple of tools from my dad’s old stash—mostly just your regular stuff: a Ryobi circular saw, a random jigsaw that was probably older than me, and of course, a tape measure that was definitely not reliable. I mean, let’s be honest, that thing declared it had a ‘free spirit.’
So there I was, all excited, planning to make a simple coffee table. My wife, bless her, was all in when I told her my grand vision. But halfway through cutting that cedar, I realized I had no clear idea of what I was doing. I measured once and cut twice—no, I’m kidding, I measured like ten times and still messed it up. The boards? They didn’t match up at all.
I almost gave up. I still remember the smell of that cedar and the sweet yet slightly bitter aroma filling the air as I sat there, frustrated, staring at my mismatched pieces. It felt like I was trying to solve a complex math problem instead of building furniture.
Lessons and Laughs
But you know what? Sometimes when things go haywire, you learn something. After a couple of deep breaths and a lot of second-guessing, I decided to sand them down and live with the imperfections. I thought to myself, “If it turns out looking homemade, that’s just character.” I took out my orbital sander and just went to town. The whirring was oddly soothing.
After a few evenings of curse-filled labor, that cedar was starting to come together. I applied a coat of Danish oil—it smells like almonds, I swear! Who knew wood could have such a personality? I laughed when it actually started to look like something a human would use, not just a pile of misfit boards.
The Great Stain Dilemma
Now, I wish I could end this tale on a high note, but here’s where it got tricky again. When it came time to stain it, I thought I was all set. I picked up some Minwax stain in a deep walnut color since I wanted that rich look. In my mind, the cedar would be like a canvas waiting for life to be brushed upon it. But, spoiler alert: it didn’t go as planned.
I just slapped that stain on, thinking it’d soak right in. But I think I over-applied it. I walked away, came back, and it was a whole mess—darker in some spots, lighter in others. Like I accidentally created a piece of abstract art instead of a table.
So, what did I do? I panicked a bit—honestly, I thought about leaving it outside for the raccoons to find. But then I took a step back and thought, “What would a seasoned woodworker do?” They’d fix it, right? So, I grabbed some mineral spirits and tried to take some of it off. It seemed counterintuitive, but it worked. The more I worked with the grain, the more it started to look like I had a plan all along.
Reflections Over Coffee
Eventually, I brought that table into the house. When I set it down, my wife stared at it like I had just returned from a journey to bring back a rare treasure. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. You know that feeling when you’ve poured your heart into something?
Sip of coffee in hand, I thought about all the misconceptions I had about woodworking. I used to think it was all about perfection—about cutting everything just right and making sure each piece fit perfectly together. But really, it’s about making something that tells a story. Each flaw showed where I learned, where I grew a little.
So, if you’re thinking about giving woodworking a go—just dive in. Embrace the stops and starts, the mistakes and chances to laugh at yourself. Wood doesn’t care if you mess up. And at the end of the day, you’re going to have something you actually made with your hands. That’s worth the splinters, the stains, and all the missteps along the way. Just remember: the path might be crooked, but those little imperfections tell the best stories.
