time to dance

Okay, it doesn't happen often, but it does happen.

["The floor is swept and I have room to maneuver"]

If it happens it's because my old workshop CD player is turned up and a song with a good beat starts to blast. I instinctively kick one leg out to the side, then the other. Then I shake my hinder parts and find the groove. Pretty soon the joint is rocking.

 

["There's a couple of really good dance numbers on this CD"]

Sure, I'd be embarrassed if somebody popped in while I was busting a quick move. But you know what?

["Odds are, you would like dancing to this CD"]

I think I've still got it.

Really, everybody needs a workshop.

Photos by GH

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a 'shop project'

only one question about this lovely home...

should I build it using grey barn board or red cedar?

photo by gah

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time to think

Raise your hand if you have a workshop, someplace you can go inside or near your house where you can putter, slap a shelf unit together, saw wood to make a birdhouse. If you do, I bet you raised your hand in an orderly, confident, calm, cheerful, thoughtful manner because a workshop is often the place where one develops those fine qualities or characteristics.

["I open my shop door with a youthful sense of anticipation"]

I can't think of a time when I was unhappy to open my workshop for a few hours or for the day. What once was a dark hole (a narrow, backyard, 1920s garage with a dirt floor) is now a place where I can measure and saw and sand and hammer and build. It is especially a fine, (often) quiet and warm place to think. And I believe everyone on earth needs time to think each day... deeply, for extended periods - backward, forward, sideways.

["I'll add a slat roof of barn board or cedar"]

My wife and I visited my son in Fenelon Falls  recently and the thing I missed most about home was my workshop. Fortunately I had books, a notepad and pens with me, so I read, wrote notes and sketched future 'shop projects' when free time was available.

Now I'm home and turning rough sketches into barns for birds. I've turned the shop heater on low and both ends of my body - my feet and gray matter - are warming up.

["The twins found my notebook, added several sketches"]

Those without a workshop should at least keep a notepad handy. Sketch a shop, list things to build. Think about a time to think.

Photos by GH

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like a cold shiver

something like a cold shiver

went up my spine when

I saw early morning, snow-covered trees.

***

photos

with and without flash

by gah 

***

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vignettes from a world at war (2)

During WW2 a bold, imaginative and daring plan was developed by the Allies, i.e., to land troops and war supplies on the coast of North Africa. 

'It was the first large amphibious operation by the United States in forty-five years, and the most audacious ever'. ( pg 31, An Army At Dawn):

'with luck'

three hundred warships

and nearly 400 transports and cargo vessels

would land more than 100,000 troops

- three-quarters of them American,

the rest British -

in North Africa.

Task Force 34

would sail for Morocco

on Saturday morning.

The other armada would leave Britain

shortly thereafter for Algeria.

with luck, the Vichy French

controlling North Africa

would not oppose the landings.

[pg. 31, An Army At Dawn, re Operation TORCH]

[Photo from An Army At Dawn: "American troops landing

at Fedala, Morocco, on Sunday, November 8, 1942"]

My father was on the 'other armada'.

In his navy memoirs he says 'we left Greenock (Scotland) in October, 1943 with our LCMs (landing craft mechanized) aboard a ship called Derwentdale... she was an oil tanker and the food was short... little did we know we were bound for North Africa.' (pg. 23, "Dad, Well Done")

As well, little did he know about the amount of work - and in what conditions - that faced him and his ship-mates as they approached Algeria. His notes tell the tale:

'working like bees'

on November 11, (1942) the Derwentdale

dropped anchor off Arzew in North Africa

and different ships were distributed

at different intervals along the vast coast...

at around midnight over the sides went the LCMs,

ours with a bulldozer and heavy mesh wire,

and about 500 feet from shore we ran aground.

when morning came we were still there,

as big as life and all alone,

while everyone else

was working like bees.

Soon he was as busy as a bee himself. And learning to keep his head down.

Photos by GH

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caution - there's a hole

there's a hole

in the snow.

does it lead to spring?

photo by gah

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like a hot knife

like a hot knife

through butter

***

photo by gah
while in fenelon falls, ontario

***

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First impressions of the day

"The bird came, turned around and went home"

"It's time to make some noise"

Photos by GH

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Vignettes from a world at war

Go back to early morning,  November 12, 1942. Approach the shores of North Africa in an LCM, a mechanized landing craft. And keep your head down.

'this hour'

Young men, fated to survive

and become old men dying abed 
half a century hence,

would forever remember
this hour,

when an army at dawn

made for the open sea
in a cause none could yet comprehend.

Ashore, as the great fleet glided past,

dreams of them stepped,
like men alive,

into the rooms where
their loved ones lay sleeping.

[pg. 41, An Army At Dawn re North Africa, by Rick Atkinson]

[A landing craft, Kiska file]

While reading the above passage recently, I was reminded of a line or two from my father's WW2 memoirs:

'what a sight'

One November morning

the huge convoy, perhaps 500 ships,

entered the Mediterranean sea

through the Strait of Gibraltar.

It was a nice sun-shiny day...

what a sight to behold.

[pg. 25, "Dad, Well Done", Doug Harrison's navy memoirs]

Once the ship he served upon reached its appointed destination along the coast of North Africa, his sight-seeing was over. Work began.

2nd photo by GH

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Promises, promises

I said I would and I will. I'll build a log cabin triplex with a nice side yard, room enough for a clothesline and a couple of comfy chairs. My word is my bond.

["The wee clothespins may be available in a local craft shop"]

However, while cutting logs the other day a wee thought, with an accompanying image (3D and in full colour), floated across the movie screen inside my busy mind: You agreed to build two birdhouses for a local ballpark; opening day for the new baseball season is creeping up; so git to it. Git! Git!

["One will display a real baseball, behind plexiglass. Amazingly cool!"]

Yesterday I began to assemble a prototype for the first 'baseball themed' birdhouse. To accommodate a display case for a London Majors baseball, the house will have a common shape with uncommon innards, as would a chicken with two stomachs. (Try to picture that just for a second).

So, a bird will enter through a standard entrance, stroll warily - at first - across the second floor, then easily hop down into the living room at the back of the house. (Try to picture that just for a second, with wariness if possible).

This is going to work. I can see it now.

More to follow.

Photos by GH

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Reading, riding, and searching for clues

While reading upon my exercise bike I do not even realize I'm pedalling. It comes automatically, I've done it now for so many years.

["I didn't know the length of my journey until I put the book down"]

Last Sunday I travelled for over 45 miles oblivious, for the most part, to my surroundings. I pedalled, turned pages, put the book down three or four times to sip water from a cup nearby and lift weights, pedalled, turned pages, read about the sinking of the first boat sunk by Germany during the early days of WW2, September 3, 1939.

"...Miraculously, she righted herself. Hurriedly, more than a thousand passengers and crew scrambled into the boats. Most were saved, but 112 lost their lives, including 28 Americans. Sixteen children went down with the ship - the Athenia." (pg. xii, prologue, In Great Waters)

["The Epic Story of the Battle of the Atlantic, 1939 - 45"]

I've come to a few conclusions recently while reading and riding. I'll never get to the end of the books I want to read about WW1 and 2. I'll cover a lot of miles, however, and keep myself 'somewhat fit', while on the endless journey. By exercising regularly, I'll even help myself live a bit longer and get closer to the bottom of the pile of books.

As well, by reading particular books (e.g., In Great Waters) I catch an occasional glimpse of faint footsteps left by my father as he participated in the greatest adventure of many a young man's life during the WW2 years, 1939 - 1945.

More to follow.

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Zoom w a View: Laundry day

The workshop floor is swept. Finally.

["An idea came to mind while folding my laundry"]

It's now time to get back to serious work... on a birdhouse with a side yard and picket fence. And what could I put in the yard that birds would find useful?

Photo by GH

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The Workshop: "Now there's room to work"

About ten days ago I turned my workshop upside down. Redo it, I said to myself. Make it a more work-efficient space. Automize. Specialize. Customize. Sweep the floor.

 Been there.

["You could eat off these floors now!"]

Done that.

Now it's time to get back to work and turn drawings into living, breathing birdhouses. Or something like that.

Photos by GH

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Zoom w a View: "Sit down for this one"

I've met many comfortable chairs in my life but, at the moment, this old one beats them all.

["Port Franks, I shall return"]

I know it's early in the year, but I'm already planning my next bicycle trip. Can I pedal there in one day? Will my chair still be there?

What are you thinking?

Photo by GH

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The Workshop: "Now there's room for stuff"

Now I know how a one-armed paper hanger feels. I built the shelves on the floor, then had to hold them in place - on the level - with one hand while popping in nails with the other. It wasn't easy.

["Soon a lot of stuff will appear"]

It wasn't easy... until I put a level support strip on the wall upon which the bottom of the shelf could rest while I wielded the hammer. Then it was a snap. It was also fun applying a strip of red cedar to the  facing shelf and divider edges. Nice finishing touch, I say.

["The unit is 6 ft. wide, 2 ft. tall. I wish I had room for twice that"]

After I filled a few shelves ("Yes! Now there's more room for stuff!" I said), I turned to think about a vexing problem. I.e., where do I put my old CD player? It's too wide to fit on the new unit, and I like things close at hand.

["I can't afford a smaller player. I blew the budget, folks!"]

There's always something to do or think about in the workshop.

Photos by GH

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Zoom w a View: "The Schnapps Distillery"

I must be close to the end of my workshop reno. E.g., last night I started hanging favourite photos in prominent places.

["Son Paul took this one during a trip to Austria. Awesome"]

One cherished photo comes from inside another man's small workshop which doubles as a schnapps distillery. The father of my son's business associate distills whisky or schnapps for a limited time each year and his walls are lined with spirits of every kind. My son was invited to sampled a few and almost fell asleep standing up. Next time he'll likely sit down beside the distiller and sip more slowly.

I'm attached to the photo for various reasons:

["Doesn't he wear a lovely, satisfied expression?"]

I like cozy, productive shops

I can almost smell the schnapps

I also roll up my shirt sleeves when working

I also celebrate 'Happy Hour' at 5 p.m.

Everybody needs a workshop (and knowing somebody with their own still would be kind of interesting too).

Photos by GH

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The Workshop: "More ribs please"

Earlier this week, after fussing over how a few shelves should look in my 'soon to be new and improved' workshop, I stared at an empty wall for a few minutes. What next? I thought.

["I love a blank canvas"]

Shortly thereafter I assembled small cribs for the odd bits of lumber needed for various birdhouses and other small projects. I placed five cribs next to the main workbench so that items will be close at hand when I work.

["Soon the cribs will be filled with logs and slats"]

What now? I thought.

["You want extra BBQ sauce with that order?"]

Two things. Shelves, lots of shelves. Then more ribs for the cribs... with extra sauce.

Photos by GH

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Photo Poser 23: "Plums, plumbs, plum bobs?"

I was generously offered these two items recently. Barry said, "Would you like these?" I said, "Yes."

The pair now hangs inside my workshop. But what are they?

["A pear of plums?"]

Plums? Plumbs? Plum-bobs?

FYI The answer to Photo Poser 22 is 'Confederation Bridge, PEI'.

Photo by GH

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The Workshop: "Time to get fussy"

At five minutes to three on Monday I stepped back from my work, brushed dust from my face and picked up my camera. I felt ready for a ten minute break.

["My main bench is almost ready for action"]

I'd just finished covering the east or back wall of the workshop with tongue and groove pine and applying trim where it met the side walls, floor and ceiling.

As well, a shelf, originally attached to the back wall, is now placed nicely - on the level - over my smaller workbench. And most cubbies are full, i.e., back in action.

["The smaller bench's work space will soon be well-lit"]

Two of the cubbies I will fuss over. "Display purposes only" for old hammers and a decoy.

I enjoy working in the shop for many reasons, and the touch of family history within its walls makes me feel that every project, small or large, is completed with some important meaning.

["The wooden hammer is used with some chisels"]

Great-great-uncle Hank Catton was a decoy carver and crack shot and I can fire off a wisecrack with the best of them. My dad was a prolific birdhouse builder and his hammer (and a wooden one from my mother) graces a top shelf, over-looking my own busy 'birdhouse building' bench.

Soon the clean-up and fussy-minded redo will be completed and shop will be back to business.

Stay tuned.

Photos by GH

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The Workshop: "Close at hand... soon"

I like having things close at hand. Wallet, camera, coffee mug, pen, pencil, notebook - always nearby.

["Old pegboard is off the back wall"]

My desires aren't much different in the workshop and after turning out three dozen log cabin birdhouses during the last two months I decided upon a 'shop redo.' Tools I use a lot will be closer at hand, some permanently attached to a second workbench. Wood, cut to measure, will be within arm's reach when I go to assemble future models.

["I'm now ready for the new tongue and groove"]

Soon, the workshop will look fantastic. Right now, however, it's a real mess.

Soon.

Photos by GH

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