The Joys and Jumps of Mulberry Woodworking in Santa Cruz
You ever get that itch to build something? That moment when you just… have to create? Well, that’s where my journey with mulberry woodworking began in Santa Cruz—a town where redwoods stand tall, and the ocean whispers secrets to those who listen. I remember it clearly; it was one of those crisp mornings where the fog hugs the coast, and the smell of coffee mingled with the salty air. I was sitting at my kitchen table, scrolling past Instagram photos of beautifully crafted furniture, thinking, “I could do that.” And maybe I could, but boy, did I have a steep learning curve ahead.
The First Encounter with Mulberry
So, let me tell you about my very first encounter with mulberry. Now, I’ll admit right off the bat that I didn’t even know there was a difference between different types of wood back then. I just knew it was supposed to be good for this whimsical little table I wanted to make for my porch. A buddy of mine, more experienced in the craft—let’s just call him Dave—suggested I try mulberry. “It’s a hard wood, strong and pretty,” he said. Little did I know, I was stepping into a world of lessons wrapped in shavings.
I finally found a place selling mulberry slabs, right here in Santa Cruz. The scent that wafted from the freshly cut wood was something else—earthy and sweet, like the woods after a rainstorm. It felt like I was holding a piece of nature itself. I was ready to dive in, but boy, was I about to learn a thing or two about expectations versus reality.
Ah, the Tools…
Now, before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you about my garage tools. Or, should I say, my lack of proper tools? I had this old saw I’d given $20 for at a garage sale years back, and a drill that has seen better days. I was excited, but also sweating bullets every time I fired up that drill; it sounded like it was screaming at me! But hey, it was my first project; I figured I’d make do.
I slapped down my mulberry slab on my rickety workbench, and I could already envision that table. Just the right size for a few brews with friends, or morning coffee with a view of the mountains. I was humming with ambition—until I started cutting. Cut after cut, I kept butchering my measurements. I swear I must’ve spent half a day just trying to get the legs right. They kept ending up uneven, no matter how many times I tried. I almost gave up then and there.
The Moment of Doubt
So, there I was, staring at that beautiful slab with disdain. I felt like I was battling the wood itself. I almost tossed in the towel after one particularly bad cut. I made a few choice words about my lack of woodcraft skills that morning. I could hear Dave laughing in my head—he would’ve totally called me out for wasting such beautiful material. But I couldn’t do it. I felt that mulberry wood was too special to just walk away from. I hadn’t gotten this far for nothing.
After cringing for a while, I sat down—coffee cup in hand—and stared at the wood, letting my disappointment melt away. That’s when it hit me; I was overthinking it. I needed to just breathe and take my time, instead of rushing to get it right. Mulberry is forgiving in its own way. So I took it slow; I pulled out my chisels and started to shape the corners with care. It was therapeutic, almost like carving out parts of myself along with the wood.
The “Aha!” Moment
And you know what? It actually worked. I was shocked—I laughed a little when I realized I finally got the legs symmetrical. There was this satisfying sound of the chisels biting into the grain, making gentle crunches that were almost soothing, like tuning into the symphony of my own small victory. It wasn’t perfect, but that’s okay. Life isn’t perfect, is it? Heck, some would say that’s what makes it interesting.
Once I sanded it down with some finer grit paper, I found these gorgeous patterns popping through the grain. The deep purples and golds looked like a sunset at the beach. I almost felt proud enough to show it off, and believe me, that’s saying something for an introvert like me. I finished it off with a bit of oil, soaking in the sweet, nutty aroma—it filled my garage like the bravest of all scents.
Closing Thoughts
You see, the whole mulberry woodworking adventure wasn’t just about making a table; it was about learning patience, trying again, and finding beauty in the imperfect. Every cut, every mistake led me to discover something new about myself and the craft. I ended up with a piece that holds stories, memories of the foggy Santa Cruz mornings, and the frustrations that turned into laughter.
So, if you’re thinking about trying something like this, just go for it. Don’t be like me and overthink every little thing. Get your hands dirty, be patient, and let the process unfold. There’s something magical waiting for you in the grains of wood, and who knows? You might just find a piece of yourself there, too.
