The Woodshop

Planes, jigs, and the quiet work of keeping things together

Craftsman using a hand plane to shape wood on a workbench

My workbench is a slab of old-growth pine, salvaged from a barn tear-down near Lecanto back in 1994. It's seven feet long, eight inches thick, and it's got more character than most people I know. The knots are like fingerprints — each one tells you where a branch used to reach for the sun.

I don't use power tools anymore, not since the arthritis set in around my right thumb. Not because I can't, but because the hand tools are honest. A joint plane tells you exactly how much wood it took off — you can see it in the shavings, curling like paper ribbons across the bench. No buzzsaw can give you that conversation.

The Tools That Matter

Stanley No. 4-1/2 Smoothing Plane — My daddy bought this in 1962 at the hardware store on SR 51. The blade is a bit soft now — American steel of that era didn't hold an edge like today's — but I strop it on leather before every session, and it still takes a paper-thin shaving like a warm summer breeze.
Rodkey Jointer Plane (24-inch) — This one I built myself in 2003, from a flat maple board I found at the dump. A rodkey jointer is an old English design — two soles connected by rods, adjustable for straightness. It's the only way to get a truly flat reference surface without a power jointer. Takes patience, but it works.
Veritas Lie-Nielsen Shoulder Plane — Bought this in 2015 to clean up dovetail joints. It's narrow — just under an inch wide — and it makes a sound like a pencil scratching paper. My grandkids think it's magic when I pare a tail to fit a pin so tight you can't get a knife blade between them.
Farrier's Rasps and Files — Not woodworking tools, per se, but I use them for shaping handles on my own tools. When you're fitting a handle to a chisel, you shape it to the hand, not the other way around. I rasp, then sand with 220, then oil it with linseed. Three steps. No shortcuts.

"The timber does sing if you listen — a soft rasp, a whisper of grain giving way. That silence between the chisel marks is where our grandchildren will learn to rest."

Lessons from the Bench

Measure Twice, Cut Once

I've heard this a thousand times, and I've said it a thousand more. But here's what most folks miss: it's not just about cutting. It's about thinking. Before you touch the saw, you should know what you're making, why you're making it, and what happens if you get it wrong. A wrong cut can be fixed with glue and a clamp sometimes, but a wrong thought can't be planed smooth.

Let the Wood Tell You What It Wants to Be

I've ruined more pieces of wood trying to force them into a shape than I can count. Oak wants to go with the grain. Pine is forgiving but soft. Poplar is soft and unforgiving. You learn the personality of each wood species the way you learn the personality of your neighbors — by spending time with it, paying attention, and listening to what it's trying to tell you.

Sharpen Often

A dull blade is a dangerous blade. It takes more force to push, and when you're pushing harder, your hands wander. I sharpen my chisels and plane irons every session — a few strokes on a leather strop with diamond paste, then a test cut on a scrap of pine. If the shaving curls and the edges are clean, it's sharp. If it crushes the fibers, keep going.

Who I've Met Along the Way

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