For several years after I retired from teaching I would have dreams at night about being in a classroom with no supplies, no plans for the day and wall-to-wall students intent on paying me not much attention. Sounds like ingredients for a nightmare in any language, doesn't it?
Now, in my eleventh year of retirement (and looking more youthful than ever), I awake many mornings thinking about my next shop project. My thoughts or remnants of a pleasant dream could be about an ordinary birdhouse, tall triplex or custom chair. I awoke this morning to thoughts about building classy, aromatic frames for three pieces of rustic metal, two of which hang under a clock in my small workshop. The third is still attached to the shop door (formerly my dad's barn door).
Two days ago I prepared some wood, also from my dad's in-town barn (which was demolished several years ago in Norwich, Ontario) for the art-like project. When I 'booked the lumber' on the saw, i.e., cut it open to reveal two symmetrical pieces, like facing pages in a book, part of the experience caught me by surprise.
Fresh aromas and colours from the century-old board leapt from the page, so to speak, and I savoured the rare treat. Simple photographs do not do justice except to preserve the moment in their own way.
Soon the frames will be complete and the hinges will adorn my shop walls, preserving the hard, muscular industry of men long gone for a future generation.
Photos by GH
***
Please click here for related matters
forging an idea
No comments:
Post a Comment