I’ve been getting back out to the woodshop for the last couple of days. It’s been a while, but these few months off really seem to have done me a world of good. In fact, it feels as though I’ve never stepped away.

The tools are comfortable in my hands…more so than when I laid them down last spring. They move a little more efficiently, and my hands seem much more capable of taking their direction.

I’ve also incorporated a bandsaw for shaping my blanks. I know. I know… This is the part where the purists out there call me a sinner and cast me beyond the pale. The truth is my form has never really been that great and using the bandsaw saves a lot of wear and tear on my shoulders. And if being able to do this work means accepting the mark of Cain, well, so be it.

If I’m being serious though, this kind of thing happens every now and again. Something shifts and the process flows a lot easier. How it happens doesn’t really matter. The important thing is that it does.

At the very least, I recognize the pattern. The work proceeds for months at a time until I begin to wrestle with it. Eventually, my frustration level grows, and I have to set things down and walk away…sometimes for an extended period of time. For a while I don’t even think about it, but gradually, it starts to tap me on the shoulder. Finally, there comes a point when I can’t not go back to it. And when I do, there’s usually some new insight waiting for me among the wood chips and the freshly sharpened edges…