Patience

I’m beginning a new piece and thought you might like to follow along on the progress thus far…

Our story begins two years ago.

I drove past a massive pecan “log” waiting on the curb for bulk trash pickup. After enlisting the help of a friend, who also conveniently owned a truck, we liberated it from the landfill and forever changed its fate. The ride home was no small task, the piece pictured here originally weighed over 200 pounds. After drying for the last two years, its moisture content is below eight percent and it now weighs closer to 75 pounds (phew). When I curb-picked this piece, it was one solid stump but as it dried it began to check and split, eventually into three separate pieces.

My first task in creating a new piece is balancing the act of deciding what to create with the organic wonder of what the wood wishes to become. In this case, we both agreed on the obvious… it’d look damn good as a coffee table. The second task is to flatten the slab which is more commonly referred to as a cookie in the woodworking community. It’s always hard for me to say that with a straight face and not think of a furry blue muppet... but I digress... as the flattening creates a lot of crumbs. 

When you don’t have a tool that you need, in this case a planer that will handle the 40” width of the piece, you resourcefully build one. Hence my new router sled. This is basically a jig for the router that allows me to guide it back and forth over the wood and level or flatten it. While time consuming, you should see my muscular forearms.

During this process, I discovered that a section of the tree grew around and had a love affair with a chain-link fence... gotta love urban forestry. This required an intense focus during the router movement as I didn't intend to ruin my bit. Alas, when you lose concentration and run into said chain-link fence, there are sparks and flying segments of your carbide-tipped router bit that require a necessary, yet aww shucks, trip to my toy store (errr) Woodcraft. Moral of the story woodworking and metal working don’t mix.

After the piece is flat and the top and bottom are parallel, the intricacy of cutting butterfly keys begins that stitch the three pieces of the slab together. I’m always asked what those joints are called. They are referred to by multiple names: butterfly joints, bowties, keys, Dutchmen and the list goes on... my sentiment is butterflies.

I decide on three different butterfly sizes made from white oak, align their placement and trace each location on the slab with a marking knife. Then simple chopping the waste away with a mallet and chisel until the grooves are like butter. Sure, I made that part sound so much more simple than it actually is, but notwithstanding the years of practice, cuts, mistakes and blood.

So as I leave you, I am adding wings to butterfly joints and smoothing their mortises, while pondering the shape and detail of the legs.