A Square Deal: The High Woodwork Square Story
Well, grab a cup of coffee and settle in because I’ve got a story for you. This one goes back a couple of summers ago, actually. It’s about this little piece of equipment that, trust me, you don’t really think about until you really need to… and boy, did I need it. Let’s talk about the high woodwork square.
So, there I was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to tackle a new project. I’d decided I wanted to build a workbench for my garage — you know, the kind that any serious woodworker would be proud of (or at least, the kind that might look decent in an Instagram post). I had my heart set on using some beautiful oak planks I snagged from a local mill, and let me tell you, the smell of that fresh-cut wood is something else. You walk into the garage with that scent wafting around, and suddenly you feel like you can take on the world.
But as I pulled out all my tools from storage — my trusty circular saw, some clamps, and my favorite sander that’s seen better days — I realized something was missing. Yes, I had a tape measure, but, you know what? I wasn’t going to get precision out of just that. I needed a high woodwork square to make sure everything was perfectly aligned. And wouldn’t you know it, I didn’t own one.
Out of My Depth
So, being the determined DIY-er I am, I made a trip to the local lumber yard. Now, just a quick sidebar here: if you haven’t been to a small-town lumber yard, you’re missing out. The folks behind the counter usually know their stuff and can talk endlessly about the best types of wood for your project while giving you that look—you know, the one that says “what on earth are you building?”
After a little chit-chat, I picked up a high woodwork square. Honestly, it felt a little fancy for me, but I figured it was worth the investment. I think I went with one from a brand called Starrett — not cheap, but hey, you get what you pay for, right?
Now, back at home, excitement bubbled in my chest. With the square in hand, I got to measuring and cutting like a real craftsman. I could almost hear my dad’s voice in my ear, reminding me to measure twice and cut once. But old habits die hard, and I found myself caught up in the excitement, and — you know what’s coming — I missed a crucial measurement.
The Moment of Truth
Things were going great until I went to join the top to the sides of my workbench. I hoisted the big oak tabletop onto the frame, and as I positioned it, I felt this sinking pit in my stomach. I was pulling out my hair trying to figure out why things weren’t lining up. I glanced down at my high square, and — here’s a moment of truth for anyone out there who thinks they might have it all figured out — I realized I hadn’t used it properly. I’d gotten a bit lazy with the measurements and didn’t square my corners first.
There I was, standing there, surrounded by sawdust and wood shavings, staring at what looked like an abstract art installation rather than a workbench. Honestly, I almost gave up. I thought, "What’s the point?" I sighed heavily, the smell of sawdust filling my nostrils and my coffee going cold beside me. But then I looked at that high square again, just sitting there looking all smug, practically whispering, “Hey buddy, it ain’t my fault.”
The Turnaround
I took a breath, made myself a fresh cup of coffee—real home-brewed stuff, by the way—and tried to collect my thoughts. “Okay, let’s just give this another shot,” I told myself. I used the square to check all my measurements again, right from scratch. The satisfying click it made as it locked into place felt like an old friend returning. It was calming, if you can believe that.
After re-measuring everything, I finally got the corners right. I remember pulling that second screw in place and standing back to admire my handiwork. I laughed out loud when it actually worked! Just that brief moment of everything coming together after all that frustration felt, well, like magic, you know?
A Lesson Learned
So, did I finish that workbench? You bet I did, and now it’s standing there, solid as a rock, holding all sorts of tools I’ve collected over the years. Whenever I use it, I look at that high square and remember the lesson I learned: don’t rush, take it slow, and use your tools properly. Sometimes it takes stepping back and accepting that perfection comes with practice, and every mistake is just part of the process.
So, yeah, if you’re sitting there contemplating a project — whether it’s building a bench or just dipping your toes into woodworking — just go for it. Don’t be afraid to mess up; embrace the chaos of learning. The smell of fresh-cut wood, the sound of tools in your hand, and even the occasional fumble are all part of the journey.
And hey, if it all seems overwhelming, just remember this: every craftsman started somewhere, and it’s that very process of figuring things out that makes it all worthwhile.
