Last Saturday, as I was riding home on my 1951 CCM bicycle and grinning like a little kid (it's a smooth ride), I spotted a yard sale and turned into the driveway. An old, empty, dusty bookcase stood alone near the front steps to the house. I placed my hand on the top shelf and looked for its owner. A very young girl - all smiles - said, "$15."
I smiled back. "Do I have to deal with you?" I asked in mock surprise. She nodded.
["The bookcase now stands inside my shop,
behind my other bike"]
"Five dollars," said her father with a look and gesture that indicated he'd be very happy if I took it off his hands.
Sold for five.
The bookcase weighed a ton due to back boards made from thick shite, i.e., chip board or pressed lumber. No way could I carry it, but an idea quickly sprang to mind.
I lifted it with a grunt and balanced it upon the bike pedal on the side opposite to where I stood. I walked it and the bike home, feeling smug. I knew I could do it and I did.
Great balancing act, Einstein, I said to myself once home.
I like having a bookcase inside my shop. It serves as perfect storage for birdhouses awaiting the 'full-on trim package'.
However, it is made of seven lovely pieces - lovely colouring, lovely age, lovely low number of nails - of pine or fir from which I could make 7 - 14 sturdy birdhouses.
["This pair is made from gate slats, and I don't miss the gate"]
Storage? Birdhouses? Storage? Birdhouses?
What's a fella to do?
Photos by GH
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