The times when we can’t do our work . . .

Our family is moving to Portland this summer, which means we are selling our home and shop. I have been pulled off my woodworking path to work on the house so that we can compete in this terrible real-estate market. At first it seemed like things would be rather simple and cosmetic but very shortly into it I discovered that raccoons had destroyed the crawlspace and that we were getting water under the house when the water table rose. I began systematically eliminating the water by diverting the downspouts to the street (I discovered they had been dumping into the ground right at the foundation because the pipes they went into were broken) and I ultimately installed a sump-pump. I cleaned up the crawlspace (no basements here) and every day I went under the house I appreciated my shop and my workbench even more. Since then I have replaced the floors and installed new doors, taken out old wallpaper that’s been hanging around for 50 years, put in proper baseboards and now I’m painting. While it is vey satisfying to finally have the work done on the house that we envisioned when we bought it, I miss my shop and I miss woodworking something fierce.

Yesterday as I was painting I came to a wall where I had installed two beautiful coat racks. I made them out of scraps of Jatoba and Wengé. They are so rich in color and more beautiful and well made than anything in that room. I couldn’t just paint the wall off white. So I consulted with our in house artist, Megan, and we chose a rich color to accent the racks. This is something that I hadn’t fully put together yet. When you surround yourself with beautiful woods skillfully designed and built cabinets, furniture and more, you will naturally want to extend their vibrancy into other aspects of your home. I think this is further evidence that our surroundings have a profound effect on our spirit, which in turn supports our ability to live and work creatively.