I read an article this morning about a recently deceased local man who was a passionate woodcarver his entire life. He was born in 1922, served in WWII by parachuting behind enemy lines and blowing up bridges, witnessed the attack on Pearl Harbor, and of this event, wrote these words in his Bible: Hell is moving. We have all missed death 100 times this day. Amen.
His workshop was a converted chicken coop behind his house where he would sit for hours whittling whimsical characters and animals, often so engrossed in his project, he would work through dinner.
In the article, this is the sentence that really resonated with me and to which, I think, most woodworkers can relate: Arthritis stopped him from carving and whittling about four years ago, but he still shuffled to the wood shop with the help of a walker and sat among the pieces of wood and sawdust.
As I'm entering my busy season at work, I know that I probably won't be able to do any woodworkng until mid-March. But, during the busy months, I always seem to find a little time to at least sit in my shop or tidy up or open my tool cabinet and take out my handplanes. Sometimes it's enough to just be out there sitting among the wood.