Coffee and Wood: My Journey with White Squirrel Woodworks
You know, there’s something about the smell of freshly cut oak that stirs up a little bit of magic. If you’ve never stood in a garage, the air thick with wood dust and the sound of a saw buzzing and ripping through timber, well, I’ll tell ya, it’s a sensation that tugs at your heartstrings. I sat the other day, coffee in hand — strong, black, and slightly bitter, just how I like it — reminiscing about my adventures in woodworking. And boy, do I have a story for you.
The Beginning of White Squirrel Woodworks
So, I started this little venture called White Squirrel Woodworks out of sheer boredom, honestly. This was back when I was puttering around in my garage, post-retirement, looking for a way to keep the old hands busy. It all began with an old chunk of walnut I found at the back of my shed. The grain was beautiful, a real piece of art, and I remember thinking, “What if I turned this into something?”
I grabbed my trusty Ryobi table saw — nothing flashy, but it gets the job done. The first project? A simple cutting board. How hard could it be, right? Well… turns out, it’s a bit more complicated than that.
The Mishaps
You see, the thing about woodworking is you really realize how little you know until you dive in headfirst. I had a vision of this perfectly polished slab that would literally be the talk of the neighborhood dinner parties. But what I ended up with was… let’s just say it was a lopsided disaster.
I almost threw in the towel when I cut the board too short. I mean, what are you even supposed to do with a cutting board that’s the size of a serving platter? I felt like giving up, but something held me back. Maybe it was the smell of that lovely walnut, or perhaps a stubborn streak that runs in my veins.
So, I kept at it. I sanded it down, added some mineral oil — oh man, the smell of that oil soaking in—like this warm hug for the wood. I laughed when I looked at my handiwork and realized I had actually managed to salvage it. It wasn’t perfect, but let’s be honest, perfection is overrated if you ask me.
Learning the Hard Way
Then came the moment when I decided to get a little fancy. I wanted to incorporate some cherry wood into my next project — thought it would give a nice contrast. I splurged a bit and bought some premium stuff from the local lumber yard. You know how they always say you get what you pay for? Well, they were right.
When I first cut into it, the sound was so satisfying — almost a musical note, if wood can hum. But of course, I wanted to join the pieces in a way that took me way too long to figure out. I aimed for a mortise and tenon joint, thinking I was some sort of woodworking wizard. The reality? Ha! I butchered it. The joints were off, and my poor little clamps were pulling a heavyweight that was too much for them. I was sweating bullets, thinking, “What did I get myself into?”
After a good hour of grumbling and nursing my coffee, I stumbled across some online forums — something I normally shy away from. But, lo and behold, the great internet came through! I learned about measuring twice and cutting once. Yeah, yeah, I’d heard that before, but sometimes you need your rear kicked before it sticks, right?
Triumph in the Unexpected
Eventually, I figured it out. I dialed back, took some deep breaths, and remembered that I’m just a guy in a garage making things. And with that adjustment in mindset, guess what? It actually worked! When I put those pieces together, they fit snugly, almost as if the wood was clapping it’s little grainy hands in delight. I felt a thrill that kind of takes you back to childhood — that victorious feeling when you finally ride your bike without training wheels.
And when I finished that cherry-wood cutting board, wow, I felt like a king. I remember taking it into the house, popping it on the table, and saying, “Well, either of you want to use a cutting board that’s basically a trophy?” It was the first time I felt like I’d created something with my own two hands, and it felt damn good.
Looking Forward
The funny thing is, every mistake, every misaligned joint, every bit of frustration along the way became a stepping stone. They’re like badges of honor now, memories that remind me of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. Here I am, years later, still sanding, gluing, and laughing at my old mistakes while planning projects that probably won’t go as planned—but that’s okay.
So, if you’re sitting there, maybe with a cup of coffee of your own, thinking about dipping your toes into this woodworking thing, just go for it. You’re gonna screw it up, but who cares? Honestly. The mess is part of the magic. Grab that piece of wood you’ve been eyeing and let the shavings fly. You might surprise yourself. Happy building!
