There is a magic to this work, and a sadness at its completion. The magic begins with a fancy, a passing image of a tiny cabin nestled into a hillside, just enough for two, carved from the surrounding forest. It dances from the mind, not containable, onto a roughly sketched scrap of paper late one night, candle light dancing about across the page, rude shapes and simple math cover corners as the little dream takes shape.
There is a magic as this dream is carved, hewn and sawn from stoic timbers of oak and pine. As cold polished chisels devour fat chips and leave straight bold mortises in their wake. The chorus of a many toothed saw as its rhythm strikes long curls of richly scented pine spiraling to the undergrowth.
There is a magic as the timbers come together, as long oiled tenons slide easily into their rightful mortise, the knock of the mallet and thud as a joint slams home, the permanence of each joint reverberating in your bones.
There is a sadness in its completion, like the ending of a much enjoyed book, when you are rudely thrown back to the cruelness of reality. The fantasy and joy gone too soon, and what of all your favorite characters, best friends and enemies no more…? The moment comes gradually into fruition, you double check your measurements, your wedges, your foundation. The work goes fast, with so much preparation, like a swift sleigh ride down a snowy hill, you slam one mortise home, drive this wedge, shove that timber, insert that joist, then…then…its done…its all together, there beautiful before you, but done, and you want more!
Yes there is a sadness in its completion, but also a joy unmeasured, a satisfaction money cannot buy, and a pride justly earned! For you have given wings to a dream, and so long as there will always be more to build, there will be a magic in every day!