The smell hits you first. Fresh sawdust mixed with pine, oak, and whatever else happened to meet my saw that week. It's the kind of scent that seeps into your clothes and lingers there, a badge of honor for those of us who spend our weekends turning lumber into something beautiful.
My workshop started as a bare storage building. Now it's my weekend sanctuary, a 160-square-foot space where time seems to slow down whenever I'm out here. There's something deeply satisfying about walking in here, past the pegboard wall where hand tools hang like artwork.But the heart of the shop is my workbench, built from oak, and covered with enough battle scars to write a novel. It's where rough ideas become sketches, and sketches become real things you can touch.
Along the back wall, lumber rests, anxiously waiting its turn. Some pieces I've had for years, aging like fine wine until the right project comes along. Others are fresh finds from the local sawmill. But my favorite part isn't the tools or the wood – it's the little details that make this space mine. The radio that only picks Jimmy Buffet classics.The coffee mug rings on my work area. And the memories of MANY projects and lessons learned while creating.
This workshop is more than just a place to build things. It's where I go to think, to create, to mess up and try again. Every project that leaves here takes a piece of me with it, and somehow, I always end up with more than I started with. Maybe I can create something for you next....