Yes, you read right. One of the many perils of woodcarving. And you thought it was just the blades we had to worry about.
So, I've been feeling a bit down the past few days and couldn't figure out why. Then it dawned on me that after six weeks of putting together an Enchanted Fairy Garden, I'm sad that it's over. It's the same feeling I get when taking down the Christmas tree and putting away all the festive decorations. Everything looks so bare.
I've also spent weeks enjoying the deliciousness of other art blogs and my heart yearned to create something. It was time to answer that call. Arming myself with carving supplies, a warm cozy flannel, and some Bazooka Bubblegum, I decided to get busy.
While Nicolai played with "Blue", our dog, in the yard, I sat in the sun carving the most primitive pieces of folk art I'd ever dreamed of doing. It wasn't my idea; that's just how it goes sometimes.
Uncle Dane and Aunt Candy asked if I could carve some Chestnut wood to be auctioned off for a local club Dane belongs to. Turns out, the wood I need to carve is "Wormy Chestnut", meaning it's filled with worm holes and is extremely brittle. I knew right away that the carvings would need as little detail as possible. With every cut in the wood, dried pieces just crumbled and disintegrated into the air.
Rather than get frustrated, I decided to let the wood tell me what to do. A few times I thought the entire piece was ruined, but then another idea popped into my head on how to fix it. This also completely changed my original plans.
I'm not done yet, but needed to stop so I could go pick up Mary from the bus. I really hope these turn out OK, because for now, all I have to show for my work are two unrecognziable carvings and chips in my bra.