Building

In the past several months, Greg has taken to woodworking, specifically log furniture. It began with a "gift" of pre-stripped, pre-cut ash logs. (Well, really it began long before that when he finally had a garage to work in!) Since then, his passion for woodworking has exploded into a garage full of lumber. Cherry, ash, oak, pine, osage orange, paper birch.

Like any skeptical wife, I initially just rolled my eyes and gave him a bit of a ribbing about not being able to fit my car in the garage. But in the span of a few weeks, I've seen these pieces of non-descript wood transformed into a bench, a coffeetable, a rocking chair, some Christmas presents that will remain nameless until Santa visits, and soon, a crib for our child.

His first major woodworking project - a bench for our deck

In his last venture, he invited me into the garage. We worked together from beginning to end on a two-seated bench with a table in the middle, all made with log and without a single screw or piece of metal anywhere in it. As we sat in our garage last night, we were warmed by the heat of his 3-1/2-foot potbelly stove, engulfing all the scraps of our labor and emitting a sweet, smoky scent from the roof. We drank cocoa and stood back to admire OUR creation. I realize why building is such a release for my normally hyperactive, intense husband. The sense of accomplishment and pride is enormous, even if all I can really claim is drawing up the plans, drilling a few holes, pounding a few dowels, handing him tools, and adding fractions in my head.