In the basement one evening this week, I began thinking about tools, pacing one’s self, and focusing on the path, instead of the outcome. This was not a new thought; for a very long while I have been intrigued by the sawing of wood to a pencil line and how doing it well depends on a decision to do it right. As in life, there are many choices to make while working with wood.
The right tools and practice are important, absolutely, but as sharp as a blade might be and as steady a hand, they can only be successful if the intention is there. Not to sound entirely new age, a time-honored saying about surfing is “It’s not the board; it’s who’s got feet on the deck.” Up to a point, that holds true, though I think it is telling that a heavy, unresponsive surfboard is called a log, just like the imported mahogany that 200 years ago became a Nathaniel Dominy V high chest in his North Main Street workshop.
Back to the basement, where I was picking through a box of mixed nails and other fasteners to use for a garden bed I was making. I had not intended to finish that evening: There was dinner at the Corner Bar to get to by 6:30; however, each step led to the next, whether I had planned it or not. It was like eating an entire bag of potato chips when you wanted at the outset to have just one.
First the circular saw and an extension cord came out of the basement. Thinking that would be that for the night, I cut short blocks from some scrap fir for the inside corners. Then I cut the repurposed cedar boards to length, two at 48 inches, two a little shorter so they would form an equal square when assembled.
Going back inside, I decided to check if I had enough inch-and-a-half-long screws; I did. Surely that would be it, but, in case a trip to the store would be necessary, I checked for the correct bit to drive the square-head screws into the wood; there was one. The extension cord was still connected, so it made sense to chuck the bit into a drill and attach the corner blocks to the short sides. Then, of course, the long sides had to go on. I texted that I would be late getting to Sag Harbor.
There was a moment when the corners became difficult to align. These are times when woodworkers and others involved with a craft must decide to either take the time to get the next tool — in this case, a clamp — or struggle and ultimately get it half right. I went back inside for a clamp.
In the garden, the newly made frame seems perfect — square, even, and level. In the next few days, the soil will go in, then some mulch, then plants, and I will have spared myself nagging thoughts of not having done it the right way in the first place. It is a lesson about discipline and outcome from a seed planted while thinking only of how closely I might cut to a line.