This humidity we’re having. My in-laws want a polyurethane finish on their table and chairs. When I spray a coat on a chair it goes cloudy. (I’m doing this in my detached garage with no AC.) So I’ve brought a chair in to my nasty but climate controlled basement and will try it there. Fingers crossed

The Adam and Eve story has always been a fruitful (heh) one for me. Two times I reflected on it: here and here.

I’m nearing the end of the table and chairs restoration project for my in-laws. It’s taking me a long time—thankfully they’re not in a hurry. I’ve had to learn a lot as I go. But now that I can see the end, I’m planning more restorations. Like this rocker. Looks like I’ll be learning rush weaving!

Robin Wall Kimmerer:

People often ask me what one thing I would recommend to restore relationship between land and people. My answer is almost always, “Plant a garden.” It’s good for the health of the earth and it’s good for the health of people. A garden is a nursery for nurturing connection, the soil for cultivation of practical reverence. And its power goes far beyond the garden gate—once you develop a relationship with a little patch of earth, it becomes a seed itself.

Something essential happens in a vegetable garden. It’s a place where if you can’t say “I love you” out loud, you can say it in seeds. And the land will reciprocate, in beans.

Jon Stewart on why “get on board or shut the f* up” is not exactly a pro-democracy rallying cry.

As if I wasn’t already behind on my projects, I picked up a chair today for $5. I don’t know anything about identifying chair styles or age. Obviously that square of wood nailed to the top of the seat isn’t original. Maybe it used to have a drop in seat or was a rush seat?

Steve Robinson on the death of his father. I know what this kind of conflicted memory is like. I’m grateful to him for honestly expressing it.

For as long as I can remember, my heroes have almost always been old men. Maybe because my first hero was my maternal grandfather, who died when I was eleven. As I think about it, this tendency is probably something that has shaped my life in certain ways.

From American Peasant, a new book by Christopher Schwarz:

So then, what does the craft [of woodworking] demand? 1) An understanding of its essential tools, materials and processes; 2) a commitment to repeating them until they are internalized and performed competently; and 3) a level of competence that allows its knowledge and skills to be taught to others.

And no more.

The craft welcomes you. And it begs you to find your place in it. To unearth a little bit of its history, embrace it and share it with others before we are drowned in a sea of plastic and petroleum by-products.

First tadpoles we’ve seen in the pond this year!