Farm Journal

Thoughts and images from life at Foster Road

Journal Entries

The workshop

I’d rather make it than buy it. For me it’s a homing instinct that keeps me too busy to enjoy other pastimes. I cannot see anything well made by hand—whether it’s a carefully stitched sweater, crusty loaf of bread or a website like this one—without thinking: I could do that. Maybe better. Where do I start. What books do I need? Even better, what tools should I buy?

I have a weakness for good tools. While my sisters have lovely clothes, I look like a bag lady half the time and even some of my better garments have paint spots. But I am the proud possessor of fine sable brushes, an excellent stand mixer, and a powerful cordless drill.

So the promise of a workshop still stocked with many of Mr. Sweet’s old tools was intoxicating. In the shop I found scores of hand tools, interesting notes, and a few pieces of vintage equipment. Marge and her family kindly left all this behind when I insisted that I thought of it as treasure.

The workshop itself is a gem—if you like things rustic. This was a manly hangout, tidy in its way, where everything had a purpose and nothing went to waste. Appearances were not important and except for the vintage lithographs of birds on the inside of the shop door, there is nothing decorative here. But it will be a great place to work as soon as the weather warms up. And maybe by next winter, I’ll have time to figure out the stove!