Bad Boy Corner is right by the chimney breast and so close to the hearth and heart of the home. It's in my line of vision whenever I sit down to relax. Whether I'm chatting with my wife or simply vegging out in front of the T.V watching re-runs of Top Gear and C.S.I., it is there. Things may sit there for a day, a week, or a month or two. Some things even make return visits although that doesn't happen very often, thankfully. It helps me a great deal. I believe very strongly that each tree, each piece of wood I work with has a spirit. I could not do the things I do if I did not listen to, and work with, the spirit of the wood. Because of this my ideas and inspiration change constantly, as the wood and I change our minds about what feels right. And if something doesn't feel quite right, all work stops. Frustrating as it may be when I want to get things finished, I won't finish a piece simply for the sake of finishing and I will not let a piece go if it is not the very best that it can be. I owe that to myself. I owe it to those who buy my work. But most of all, I owe it to the Wood.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Bad Boy Corner
My latest staff is currently languishing in 'Bad Boy' corner. It hasn't done anything wrong but, as yet, it isn't right.
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Brain Fog
Uggghh. I'm really fed up of dealing with the headache from hell. I've done nothing for days now, I just can't concentrate. Think that maybe I'll make up a flask of tea and head down to the beach. The weather is just grotty enough for it to be deserted and maybe the wind and salt spray will chase away the fog thats clouding my thoughts.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
Here Be Dragons
Yesterday didn't quite go as planned. I must learn not to flit from project to project if I want to get anything done! I'm having quite a bit of a dragon frenzy at the moment, I don't know why. It seems every piece if wood I pick up says 'dragon' to me. Some scream it, some whisper, some keep me guessing for days or even weeks before revealing their inner spirit. All make me work and demand blood, sweat and tears.
Dragon Staff
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Lazy Daze
Yesterday dawned blazingly bright and I'm afraid all plans of disapearing into my little work room went out the window. Sometimes my will power deserts me, what can I say?
My good lady wife did the honours with a picnic and we headed off in search of a beach that wasn't overwhelmed with holiday makers. Not that I have any objections to tourists, I'm well aware of the important role they play in Cornwall's economy, but I'm quite a solitary soul (ok, I'm a cantankerous old druid who finds it hard to resist the urge to shout "OI, stop digging up my beach" whenever I see a child with a bucket and spade!).
A little bit of local knowledge came in handy and we actually didn't have to travel very far. Only a mile away the town beach was crammed to bursting with happy holiday makers going lobster pink in the sun but a short walk across a field or two and a clamber down a few rocks and we could have been a million miles away. We weren't completly isolated, the occaisional dog walker came by to say "hello", but we were largly undisturbed. The town beach may have sand instead of pebbles and have been scraped clean of all its seaweed every morning, but give me solitude and a sea shore the way nature intended any day of the week. Pristine sand? They can keep it.
After a mooch along the shore collecting a few little bits of driftwood and sea shells (and sadly collecting up a fair few plastic bottles, crisp packets and carrier bags... HOW HARD IS IT TO TAKE ONE'S RUBBISH HOME? Seriously, if one can carry it all out there when full, surely its no real effort to carry it home when its empty?) we settled down in a sheltered spot to while away an hour or six. The sun was hot, the breeze was deliciously cool and our picnic was simply delicious.
I'm now convinced I'm married to a mermaid. Despite having forgotten to take swimsuit or towel, my completely insane wife was definately not prepared to settle for a quick paddle! After quite a bit of squealing and protesting about the cold I thought I'd literally have to drag her out of the sea to go home. My very own water baby. There is nothing more enjoyable than sitting in the sun listening to the laughter of the woman I love and watching her cut through the waves as though she was born to it.
Today though, its nose to the grindstone. All my little projects are starting to mount up. I'm determind to get something finished today. Refreshed from my lazy day yesterday, anything is possible.
My good lady wife did the honours with a picnic and we headed off in search of a beach that wasn't overwhelmed with holiday makers. Not that I have any objections to tourists, I'm well aware of the important role they play in Cornwall's economy, but I'm quite a solitary soul (ok, I'm a cantankerous old druid who finds it hard to resist the urge to shout "OI, stop digging up my beach" whenever I see a child with a bucket and spade!).
A little bit of local knowledge came in handy and we actually didn't have to travel very far. Only a mile away the town beach was crammed to bursting with happy holiday makers going lobster pink in the sun but a short walk across a field or two and a clamber down a few rocks and we could have been a million miles away. We weren't completly isolated, the occaisional dog walker came by to say "hello", but we were largly undisturbed. The town beach may have sand instead of pebbles and have been scraped clean of all its seaweed every morning, but give me solitude and a sea shore the way nature intended any day of the week. Pristine sand? They can keep it.
After a mooch along the shore collecting a few little bits of driftwood and sea shells (and sadly collecting up a fair few plastic bottles, crisp packets and carrier bags... HOW HARD IS IT TO TAKE ONE'S RUBBISH HOME? Seriously, if one can carry it all out there when full, surely its no real effort to carry it home when its empty?) we settled down in a sheltered spot to while away an hour or six. The sun was hot, the breeze was deliciously cool and our picnic was simply delicious.
I'm now convinced I'm married to a mermaid. Despite having forgotten to take swimsuit or towel, my completely insane wife was definately not prepared to settle for a quick paddle! After quite a bit of squealing and protesting about the cold I thought I'd literally have to drag her out of the sea to go home. My very own water baby. There is nothing more enjoyable than sitting in the sun listening to the laughter of the woman I love and watching her cut through the waves as though she was born to it.
Today though, its nose to the grindstone. All my little projects are starting to mount up. I'm determind to get something finished today. Refreshed from my lazy day yesterday, anything is possible.
Saturday, 9 July 2011
Bear With Me, I'm New to This Blogging Malarky!
Well, where to start?
A bit about me? Are you sure?
Ok, if you insist...
I'm a druid. Maybe not a good druid, but I try. I walk a solitary path and although I had a great teacher and guide upon this path, who is still sorely missed, I have never been part of a grove. Nor will I ever be. Nothing wrong with groves, you understand, its just not for me.
You'll find me in the wild places, listening to the mighty waves crashing onto the shore or watching ravens soar high above the windswept moor. You'll find me deep in the woods beneath the boughs of an ancient oak. Here I feel at one with this amazing world we call our home. Here I feel the strength of my Lord Herne and the love of my Lady. Here I find my inspiration.
I have little money and poor health but I am truely blessed. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly and my wife by my side. I have a little workshop where I can hide away and create (Ok, so it was the spare bedroom and my lovely, long suffering wife turns a blind eye to me discarding the bed and filling it with woodshavings, but its mine and I'm rarely happier than when I'm in there). The wood talks and I listen... and if the Lady is smiling on me the end result is what I hope for.
I make wands and staffs, athames and wood carvings. I make them from windfall or driftwood, never cutting wood from a living tree. I make them because I love it. What could be better than that?
A bit about me? Are you sure?
Ok, if you insist...
I'm a druid. Maybe not a good druid, but I try. I walk a solitary path and although I had a great teacher and guide upon this path, who is still sorely missed, I have never been part of a grove. Nor will I ever be. Nothing wrong with groves, you understand, its just not for me.
You'll find me in the wild places, listening to the mighty waves crashing onto the shore or watching ravens soar high above the windswept moor. You'll find me deep in the woods beneath the boughs of an ancient oak. Here I feel at one with this amazing world we call our home. Here I feel the strength of my Lord Herne and the love of my Lady. Here I find my inspiration.
I have little money and poor health but I am truely blessed. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly and my wife by my side. I have a little workshop where I can hide away and create (Ok, so it was the spare bedroom and my lovely, long suffering wife turns a blind eye to me discarding the bed and filling it with woodshavings, but its mine and I'm rarely happier than when I'm in there). The wood talks and I listen... and if the Lady is smiling on me the end result is what I hope for.
I make wands and staffs, athames and wood carvings. I make them from windfall or driftwood, never cutting wood from a living tree. I make them because I love it. What could be better than that?
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