A Little Shop and a Lot of Love: My Journey with Boardman Co. Woodworks
You ever sit down with that first cup of coffee, let the steam tickle your nose, and just think about everything? Yeah, that was me a few weeks back—just me, a slightly creaky chair that I swear gets more stubborn each year, and my little woodshop all cluttered up with scraps from projects long gone. This is where I am most alive, with the scent of pine and cedar hanging in the air and the hum of my old table saw cutting through the silence like a reassuring friend.
Now, lemme tell you, Boardman Co. Woodworks was kind of born out of necessity. I didn’t wake up one day and think, “Hey, I’m gonna start a woodworking company.” Nah. It started with a simple problem—my son needed a fort for the backyard, desperately. He demanded a castle, of course, not just any simple fort. And being the dad I am, how could I say no?
The Hessian Dilemma
I remember standing in the lumberyard, the smells of fresh-cut wood swirling around me like a perfume that just never gets old. I picked up some 2x4s, and then I thought, why not throw in some oak for the castle walls? You know, really class it up for a six-year-old. There’s a kind of sound that wood makes when you smack it together, that solid thud of timber meeting timber—that’s the sound of potential right there.
Of course, I didn’t just want to build any ol’ fort. I had visions of towers and battlements in my head, and somewhere around the fourth hour of sketching out designs on a napkin at two in the morning, I thought, “What could possibly go wrong?”
Oh boy, was I wrong.
I’ll tell ya, that first weekend was an absolute mess. Things fell apart—literally. I was trying to join those pieces together with some pocket holes using my Kreg jig, that little contraption that’s supposed to make everything easy. Let’s just say, it didn’t think much of my skills. I nearly threw that thing across the garage when I realized the holes were too deep and everything just splintered. I swear, it was like watching a suspense movie—frustration building until the moment the plot twist slapped you in the face. “I thought it would be a castle, now it’s just…kindling.”
Trials, Errors, and Triumphs
I almost gave up. I was feeding the negative thoughts—“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” or “Why didn’t I just buy one of those overpriced particle board kits?” But then, I remembered my son’s face, that hopeful glimmer in his eye when I first told him I’d build him a fort. So, I dusted myself off. I swapped cursing for some classic country music on the old radio. And let me tell ya, the right tunes have a way of covering up the sound of failure.
Eventually, I got back to it—after some late-night YouTube doctoring up my skills, mind you. This time, I took it slow. I pulled the oak pieces back and matched them with better-fitting pine—lighter for my sawing game yet sturdy enough to form those battlements. The smell of cedar mixed with my sweat and a hint of finally getting something right filled the air. And when I heard that satisfying crunch of wood meeting wood, I let out a crazy laugh. I mean, who knew?”
Finishing Touches, Unplanned Colors
When it was time to paint, I thought, “Why not let him pick the colors?” Nothing says royalty like bright green and fire-engine red, right? So, there I was, splashing paint onto the wood, half worried the entire thing would end up looking like a clown car. But somehow, that chaotic color joined forces, creating this enchanting little kingdom in my backyard.
Honestly, I got emotional at the end. Watching my kid invite all his friends over, how their laughter echoed off the walls, I felt like I’d built something real—something beyond just wood and nails. That smell of fresh paint mixed with the wind and the sound of little voices? Yeah, that was a kind of music too.
Lessons Learned
You know what I learned through all this? It’s not just about the finished project. Hell, it’s about the journey, those little moments in between. It’s about the mistakes—the times I could have thrown in the towel but opted to grab another cup of coffee instead and just keep going. Boardman Co. Woodworks has become more than just a name; it’s the culmination of all those spills and thrills, of finding joy in the mess.
So, if you’re thinking about trying your hand at something like this—woodworking or whatever craft makes your heart sing—just do it. Don’t let fear of failure stop you. None of those moments of frustration compare to the glory of a project well done or the joy on a loved one’s face. I wish someone had told me that earlier.
Remember, it’s a journey full of trial and error, filled with a good mix of laughter and the odd splash of paint on your new shoes. And who knows, maybe someday you’ll create not just a piece of art, but a castle, too.
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