these are some views of my favorite things

Sometimes I just stand around in my shop...
it's tough to concentrate with all those impeccable hand-made portents of the craft calling out...
pick me up and use me dammit!
sometimes I just sharpen things...
chisels, plane irons, spokeshave blades, marking knives, auger bits, scrapers, haven't made it to the saws yet, kinda scared

or I oil things...
blades, irons, try-squares, adjustable squares, dovetail squares, miter squares, sliding squares, combination squares, rulers, braces, eggbeater drills, hand drills, dovetail saws, carcass saws, tenon saws, panel saws, flush-cut saws, smoothing planes, block planes, shoulder planes, jointer planes, try planes, scrub planes, router planes, rabbet planes, combination planes, plow planes, hollow planes, round planes, transitional planes, fillister planes, I could go on...
It's an almost impossible task to keep everything clean, oiled, sharp, and adjusted, ready to create...

sometimes I make stuff...

sometimes I buy wood,

both my favorite and most dreaded parts.

I just had the opportunity to meet an amazing supplier. At this point he'll remain anonymous until I ask if it's alright.

Urban trees, some hundreds of years old, felled by storms, cars, death, or construction, that would otherwise be trundled off to a mulch plant or bonfire. Trees with character and history, somehow managing to survive as long as they have. It's in the wood, there in the grain, its twists and turns and convolutions, its color and pattern and stain. It's in the sap that pumped through and the branches we can only imagine. And you can ask the story, he knows. He knows how to cut it and dry it and point out spots you may have missed. He used to mill bits of firewood on a band saw as a child. He earned a degree in forestry and now imparts his knowledge in the wood he sells.

May my shop fill with his effort

and his efforts not go to waste