After planing, we had a lovely pile of planks, all with slightly different widths and lengths. So we measured them and sorted them into piles.
After long deliberation, a decision had to be made. It wouldn’t have been as hard a decision if I hadn’t gotten all sentimental about losing width. The Cherry wood is so very beautiful, each piece with its own intricate and mystical design, that to modify it by sawing off an inch of it seemed a crime. Almost like cropping a painting!
Cropped it must be. The pieces couldn’t be different widths.
But wait! We can cut a straight edge without…a straight edge! So we had to use the jointer. The jointer is like the planer- it has rotating blades that makes a smooth edge. One side had to be very smooth so that it would glide against the fence on the saw and create a straight edge on the cut side.
It wouldn’t be a work-in-progress picture without the white orbs of dust! The camera (as you must have guessed by now) turns the millions of dust particles in the air into little white orbs of unfocussed annoyance.
Each time we planed or jointed, we made lots of sawdust. Since it’s March in the Thumb of Michigan, it’s still quite cold and snowy out. So we decided that sawdust would provide good traction on the ice!
Since I possess powers of looking into the future, I can tell you that we’re going to end up with sawdust “art” all over the front yard. But that won’t happen till the end of March!
I guess I was so busy looking into the future that I forgot to take pictures of sawing the wood to width. However my excuse is that when using the table saw, both people have to be on full alert. There really was no opportunity to take pictures and retain all our digits.
I did get some shots of the next step; cutting the bevels. We’d had protracted discussion about beveling the edges of the wood. In my minds eye, I thought it might look a little dated. In the artist’s eye (Michael), it would look great. Plus, it had the advantage of being the only practical way to ensure that the edges of the wood would line up and hide any imperfections. So the edges were all beveled. It was the right thing to do!
Perhaps you can see the level of alertness both participants needed for this kind of work!
Next, we had to sand. And sand and sand. Again, as with the planing, ear protection is key to surviving the process without annoying “Wha?” syndrome.
Sanding is not a very photogenic process. Nor is it terribly exciting, but it did give me a sense of accomplishment, and I enjoyed it.
So I set up my sanders!
Oh yes, I had a little workshop set up for myself. My table top was an old door, and I had outlets and a light and everything! I masked up, squeezed in the Orange Cuties, and went to work!
I must say, I had more fun sanding these pieces than pretty much anything else I can think of. Mike says it’s because I like fiddly work. Perhaps, but I have officially begun a love affair with wood that I think anyone who works with it must fall into.
In between these activities, we just had to sneak peak at the soon to be Altarpiece. ( I looked it up- the name seems to fit what we are doing according to ancient church terms.)
Word to your mother: it doesn’t end up being all Cherry…
So: Here’s the results of weeks of work:
As hard as we worked, the maple was left undone. Mike the hero had to drive to Grindstone in the middle of the work week to take care of mailing back the water pump that arrived broken.
Meanwhile he sanded the Maple. No pix. Just an exhausting drive and more work.