Where inexperience and desire meet, frustration is fueled. I find myself fumbling and moving slowly in the worshop. Retracing steps, standing for moments trying to organize thoughts. An interesting comparison as I can remember my grandfather moving quickly and effortlessly about the garage.
A new piece of wood is introduced into the workshop. The first of it's kind in quite a while since the garage has laid silent. It is a 1x6x18 clear redwood plank. Only recently have my eyes begun to see the beauty in such an object. My papaw would sight down the plank, smooth over it with his hands and say, "That's good wood." This particular piece will form the gunwales, pronounced "gunnels", which are the rails of the kayak. In a framed boat that is covered in a fabric "skin" the gunwales are the support, or foundation, if you will. Unfortunately the only measurable progress was safely arriving to the garage with the 18' long plank intact and still on the car. Inside the garage the work of organizing and locating continues. Strangely, only one sawhorse can be found. The decision is made to build an exact copy. After a few cuts and much calculation my saw horse has taken the form of an ostrich; two legs with it's head buried in the sand. I have however learned to remove a table saw blade without cutting myself. The vast array of band-aids and gauze found about the garage are, I feel, a foreshadowing of things to come. Time moves quicker than expected today so I tidy up and hide the evidence of my lame horse, give goodbyes to Grandma, Connie, and Holly and allow the workshop to grow dark and silent once again. But not for long.
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