There’s value in work you enjoy, or that serves a need. There’s no value in work for its own sake
Elizabeth Bear, Ancestral Nights
(if you like Sci-fi check out Elizabeth Bear)
There’s value in work you enjoy, or that serves a need. There’s no value in work for its own sake
Elizabeth Bear, Ancestral Nights
(if you like Sci-fi check out Elizabeth Bear)
The Devil can quote scripture, after all. And monsters can say “please” and “thank you” same as any mother’s son.
Elizabeth Bear, Karen Memory
I noticed this piece of red oak and thought it would be a good opportunity to explain why fast growing wood is, in some cases, stronger than slow growing wood. You can see below the holes (more of a matrix really) that is seen in ring porous woods during early wood growth stage. This is during the spring of the year when the sap runs and the tree is growing quickly. The size of this growth, ie the width, is pretty consistent year over year. Next as the starches in the roots run out the tree transitions to so called late wood this is the growth that is put on during the summer and early fall.
Below you can clearly see years of good late wood growth and years of poor late wood growth. The difference in strength thus becomes the ratio of early growth to late wood. In the lower part of the picture you can see the ratio is about 50 50 vs the upper part where it looks to me to be about 4 or 5 to 1. So the wood in the top of the picture is much stronger than the wood in the bottom.
That same night, I wrote my first short story. It took me thirty minutes. It was a dark little tale about a man who found a magic cup and learned that if he wept into the cup, his tears turned into pearls. But even though he had always been poor, he was a happy man and rarely shed a tear. So he found ways to make himself sad so that his tears could make him rich. As the pearls piled up, so did his greed grow. The story ended with the man sitting on a mountain of pearls, knife in hand, weeping helplessly into the cup with his beloved wife's slain body in his arms.
Well I did get it mounted and was able to use it on carving gouges which are definitely not my strong suit when it comes to sharpening.
We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known
Ballad of the Sad Cafe, Carson McClullers
Well my trusty Makita cordless drill finally gave up the ghost. The batteries died as they will and I was shocked to see the cost of OEM replacements so I bought a new drill kit. I actually went to get a new charger but ended up with a whole new Metabo kit on clearance.
Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those
Norman Maclean
I watched (or rather rewatched) A River Runs Through It last nite. I am always reminded what a wonderful story that is. My people my ancestors came to Northern Maine because of rivers. They came to Allagash and settled at the confluence of the Allagash and St John rivers to log and drive logs to the paper mills and lumber mills. It was a hard life and the men my ancestors were as tough as their peavey handles. That movie reminds me of that. Even to this day you live upstream or downstream from someone else. Not north or south. Upstream or downstream.