A Weekend at the Kerrville Woodworkers Show
So there I was, standing outside the Kerrville Woodworkers Show with a coffee in one hand and a little bit of nervous energy bouncing around in my stomach. You know that feeling, right? The one where you’re a mix of excitement and dread, wondering if you’re gonna walk in there and suddenly feel like the small fish in a very big pond. I mean, I’ve dabbled in woodworking for a few years. Nothing too fancy, just your basic DIY projects. But walking into a place buzzing with real artisans could easily send the confidence right out the door.
All That Beautiful Wood
First off, walking in, it’s just a feast for the senses. There’s that unmistakable smell of fresh-cut wood — a scent that’s sort of earthy and sweet at the same time. I swear, if they had that in a candle, I’d burn it all day long. Every booth I passed was packed with beautiful wooden things: handcrafted furniture, intricate carvings, and all sorts of odds and ends that made my heart race a little. I found myself gravitating toward a table made of mesquite. The grain on that wood! I mean, it looked like the tree had stories to tell.
Then there were the tools… oh man, the tools. I could’ve been lost for hours just browsing through chisels and hand planes, but I had to remind myself that I was there to learn, not come home with a new toolbox that would sit in my garage gathering dust for another year. Though, I will tell you — that Lee Valley jointing plane was calling my name in the most seductive way possible.
A Little Lesson in Humility
You know, as much as I tried to focus on the booths, part of me just kept staring at the skilled woodworkers demonstrating their craft. It’s funny how a couple of years of practice can shoot your ego up, but then seeing a pro split a piece of wood with such grace makes you question everything you thought you knew. I was almost afraid to share my own projects. Just the weekend before, I’d spent hours painstakingly trying to craft a simple bookshelf—an easy enough project, right? But when I finally put it all together, I realized I’d mixed up the dimensions and ended up with something that looked like it belonged in a dollhouse.
“Talk about crushing!” I said aloud to no one in particular as I took a sip of my lukewarm coffee. I could almost hear that bookshelf mocking me. The stain had dribbled down the side like a child had tried to color outside the lines. Seriously, I almost threw the whole thing out in a fit of rage. I think it’s those moments that keep us grounded, though.
The Real Connection
As I roamed around, I struck up a conversation with this older fellow at one of the booths. I’ve got to say, he had this twinkle in his eye, a kind of warmth that made you feel like he genuinely wanted to share what he knew. I told him about my misadventures with the bookshelf, and he chuckled, a deep, hearty laugh that kind of put me at ease.
“Son,” he said, “I’ve been at this for thirty years and I still screw things up. One time, I tried to make a coffee table, and ended up with two left legs instead of one right.” We shared a good laugh over that shared humanity. He told me about using cherry wood to make the top for his latest project and how that simple color and grain would bring life to a room. He had this passion about him, and it reminded me why I started tinkering with woodworking to begin with.
Little Triumphs
Eventually, I found a booth with a couple of young folks making these stunning cutting boards—a mix of walnut, maple, and cherry. They cut with such speed and accuracy that I couldn’t help but marvel. And there I was, thinking how a good cutting board would be a nice addition to my kitchen. So, with dollars burning a hole in my pocket, I snatched up one of their creations. The minute I got it home, I could feel the smoothness of the wood, the weight of it in my hands—it just felt right.
I couldn’t help but grin as I visualized whipping it out the next time company came over, showcasing my new ‘fine wares.’ Although, let’s be honest—the only cooking I’m good at is grilling hot dogs. But hey, even hot dogs deserve a fine presentation.
Finding Meaning in Mistakes
By the end of the day, I walked away from the Kerrville Woodworkers Show with more than just a cutting board. I left with a renewed sense of inspiration and a reminder that mistakes are just part of the journey. I mean, it’s easy to get discouraged when things don’t go right, but it’s those little hiccups that teach us the most.
So, if you’re sitting there on the fence about tackling a project or diving into woodworking, just go for it. Even if it ends up being a bit of a flop, you’ll learn something about yourself and your craft along the way. Sometimes, you find the best stories in the things that don’t quite go as planned. And who knows? You might just stumble upon your very own piece of art—or a coffee table with two left legs. Either way, it’s all part of the ride.
