Year of Wood and Woe: Reflections from 2017
Boy, where do I even start? It feels like just yesterday I was on the cusp of diving deep into some good ol’ woodwork, just like my granddad used to do. Back in 2017, it was all a bit of trial and error for me. Picture this: a small garage, the smell of sawdust filling the air, the sounds of power tools buzzing, and me—a fresh enthusiast, armed with only a half-baked plan and a lot of enthusiasm.
That First Project: The Garden Bench
I kicked things off with something simple—well, I thought it was simple at the time. A garden bench seemed like a no-brainer. I imagined my family sitting out back, drinks in hand, all of us relaxing on my homemade masterpiece. I got my hands on some pressure-treated pine from the local Home Depot. It was light, a bit coarse, but you know, it smelled like fresh-cut wood, and I was all in.
So there I was, a novice, and I figured I’d need some tools to get this party started. I borrowed my brother’s DeWalt miter saw. Man, that thing was a beauty—sharp as a tack and cutting through wood like butter. I had my plans drawn up, or more like, scrawled on a napkin, and I thought to myself, “How hard could this really be?”
Trouble Brews
Well, I found out pretty quick. As I started to cut the pieces, the idea of simply measuring once and cutting once flew right out the window. I made my first cut, realizing I measured it wrong. Oh lord, you’d think I could have learned from that first blunder, but nope, I was cutting away, making mistakes left and right. I almost gave up when I’d gone through most of the wood and realized I had nothing but a pile of bits and splinters, enough to maybe make a birdhouse if I squinted hard enough.
But you know what stopped me from packing it all away? The sound of that miter saw. It was like music. With each cut, I had this wild little flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could salvage this project and make something out of that mess. And, well, after a lot of trial and error, I pieced the thing together.
The Assembly
Now, let’s talk assembly. I bought a gallon of Titebond III wood glue. They said it was waterproof, which was a must for this outdoor bench, but honestly, I just liked the way it dripped when I poured it into the joints. It had this nice, thick consistency that felt solid; I remember thinking, “Well, if it fails, at least it’ll look good while it’s doing so.”
Crucially, I learned the fine art of clamping—about ten different ways to use those annoying but necessary little tools. Just when I thought I was all set, one of my clamps slipped, and I swear I watched my precious bench collapse in slow motion. I actually gasped. But then I just sat there laughing, realizing I had somehow built character more than a bench at that point.
The Finishing Touches
So finally, after what felt like an eternity of laughing and crying—I slapped some stain on that thing. I chose a dark walnut because, honestly, it sounded classy. A few coats later and, oh boy, it was stunning. It actually looked like something you’d buy at the store, not a mishmash of wood the neighborhood raccoons would be embarrassed to sit on.
But then—yeah, there’s always a “but”—it rained that night. I woke up the next morning to see my precious creation not only soaked but also speckled with tiny water droplets like a bad art piece. Nightmare. I wanted to pull my hair out. But after some deep breathing, I figured—hey, it adds character, right?
Reaping the Rewards
Looking back, I think that garden bench taught me far more than I ever imagined it would. It was a whirlwind of excitement, mistakes, discoveries, and more than a few moments of sheer hilarity. I still have it today, and while it may have warped slightly over the years (who knew wood could move like that?), it stands as a testament to my journey in woodwork. Somehow, against all odds, it manages to hold up my family during those big summer gatherings.
And you know what? I sat on that bench a year later with my friends, laughing over a few beers, and I realized that it wasn’t just about the bench. It was about learning to face those little challenges head-on, taking the hits, and figuring stuff out.
A Little Advice for You
So if you’re reading this and thinking about picking up some tools—or if you’re already deep in your own project—just go for it. Wipe away the insecurities, embrace the chaos, and remember: it’s not just about making something pretty. It’s about making memories, one hunk of wood at a time. I wish someone had told me that earlier, and now you have.
