Landis Valley Museum

Yesterday, we toured the Landis Valley Museum, a living history museum showcasing PA German rural life, which includes historic buildings, demonstrations, workshops, and collections of early farm, craft and household objects.

German-speaking immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania in the 17th—19th centuries were self-sufficient tradesmen and farmers. We still see their influence today in Pennsylvania bank barns, so called because they were built into a bank or hillside that allowed wagons and large equipment to enter at the second floor. PA Germans designed the Pennsylvania long rifle and the Conestoga wagon, and brought with them craftmaking skills in redware (pottery), fraktur and scherenschnitt, and traditions that have become part of mainstream American culture—the Easter rabbit, decorated Easter egg, and Christmas tree.

Although the museum is very interesting, my main purpose for the tour was to take a few photos of a particular piece of furniture. 130 photos later, I believe I can build a reasonable facsimile of this piece, even though I could only get as close to it as the wall of glass would allow. I hope the curator doesn't mind a few noseprints.

Believed to have been built in 1750, although the date 1805 is carved into the drawer front, this sawbuck table's distinctively German feature is a top that can be lifted off by removing dowels so that it could be used elsewhere as a work surface. What also attracted me to this piece are the tusk tenon joinery and the baroque style of the legs.

In my shop, a huge plank of 12/4 cherry is anxiously waiting to be transformed into a little PA German sawbuck table.

Sawbuck Table photo is from Pennsylvania German Arts, by Irwin Richman.

Grandpa's Broadaxe

Both sets of great grandparents were Swedish immigrants who came to the US from Östergötland in the 1880s. They settled in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and, like many immigrants, were dirt poor. Grandpa, who spoke broken English with such a thick accent that I always had to ask dad for a translation (I was about six), would give my brother and me a nickel or dime if we’d sing Swedish songs for him. So of course, we sang ‘til we were hoarse.

Early in their marriage, my grandparents lived in a one-room log building, a footprint of 13’ x 15’, with no insulation (did I mention this was in Michigan?), no indoor plumbing, and no electricity, along with 3 children, until dad was 7 years old. Then grandpa built a tiny farmhouse for the family which eventually was wired for electricity, but still no indoor plumbing, and 3 more kids entered the fold.

Grandpa worked for the WPA and cut & sold timber while the kids attended school in a one-room schoolhouse, to which they walked through 10 feet of snow, even in summer I’m told, and while grandma cooked on a cast iron stove, washed clothes by hand, and chased bears away with a broom. It amazes me that I am only one generation away from such a remote and primitive existence.

After grandpa died, my dad was given his broadaxe, (which originally belonged to my great-grandfather, Axel), a tool that was used for shaping logs. The person using the axe stood atop the log and sliced along its edge with the flat side of the blade, walking it down the length of the log until one side was hewn flat. Prior to this, a series of stop cuts were made about every 6" into the side of the log, which made it easier to follow the chalk line.

Dad related a story about the time grandpa laid open his own foot with a double-bladed axe while cutting timber. The outside of his foot and his boot were hanging like bark peeling off a tree. Of course, folks back then were a lot tougher than they are today, so he and dad walked back home, grandpa got cleaned up (because you never went to the doctor's dirty) and dad drove him to the doctor's office, in a snowstorm (of course!), 12 miles away.

I hope grandpa's axe will be handed down to me someday and you can bet it will be displayed in a place of prominence in my workshop.

Waterstone Holder

You can purchase waterstone holders, you can make fancy wooden ones which secure your stones with wedges, and you can suspend your stones over a tub of water on a wooden or plastic bridge.

Or, you can use a set up like this, which consists of a shallow baking pan (heaven knows it wasn't seeing any use in our kitchen) and a router mat. Fancy? No. Attractive? No way. Functional? Absolutely. Clamp the baking pan to your bench and start sharpening. The stone will not move at all.

Sharpening is messy business, so I didn't want to build a pretty holder only to have it gunked up with the slurry created with water and stone particles. The odd thing is, with all the water spritzing I've done over the years, I've never had to pour any water out of the baking pan. Not sure where it goes. Could be I have broccoli growing under the router mat, but I'm not about to check.

Stoning your Saw

By stoning, I don't mean that if your handsaw is misbehaving, you should go all biblical on it. Instead, I mean there is a way to gently persuade it back to the straight and narrow by using your sharpening stones.

If your saw is consistently listing to one side when you are trying to saw a straight line, the problem might not be with you, but with the set of the saw's teeth.

If it's listing to the same side all the time, that means it is cutting more agressively on that side, which in turn means the teeth have a greater set on that side. You can decrease the set by laying your handsaw on a flat surface and lightly dragging your fine grit sharpening stone along the aggressive side of the saw's teeth. Take light passes and test the saw often. It doesn't take much to correct the cut. By doing this, the saw kerf will be made a bit thinner, so if you don't want that to happen, you might want to enlist the help of an expert sharpener.

Or, play it safe, and just purchase Lie-Nielsen saws.

Last photo added afterwards because one sharp reader noticed that I had used a rip saw to make the crosscuts. (I used my dovetail saw because it is my favorite, it was within reach, and I like the physically smaller size of the saw, compared to my crosscut saw). Nonetheless, the proof is in the photo—both the rip and crosscut Lie-Nielsen saws work great!

Product vs. Process

A friend said to me the other day "So when are you going to start building tables and entertainment centers? I mean, you do all these little things..."

Now this guy is not a woodworker but I've met non-woodworkers who understand the joy of having a hobby and just fiddling around while accomplishing nothing. In my opinion, there are people who are product-oriented, people who are process-oriented ("it's the journey" people) and those who are both. I think this guy falls into the product-oriented category. I'd say I'm both, but I always get a little maudlin when I finish a project, so I suppose I'm a process-oriented gal.

Other friends ask me to build furniture for them and when I say I'm not for hire—woodworking is my hobby—they seem incredulous. They look at the size of my shop and all my tools and can't believe I'd spend that much money on a hobby.

How do you convince product-oriented folks that even just handplaning boards makes you happy?The guys in my ww club think I'm nuts for handcutting dovetails. They tease me that "there's this new thing...it's called electricity." (okay, that one's pretty funny...)

I don't have a response. I just laugh. Any suggestions?

Finished Cupboard

Here is a photo of the finished reproduction Ephrata Cloister cupboard alongside the original. Some parts of the door (the handle for one) on my version are thicker pieces of wood because I was concerned that the wood might split when I drove the dowels in.

At right are close ups of the bottom corners.

If anyone would like to have a cut list and construction notes for the cupboard, send me an email: goodwoodworkshop@comcast.net. One reader was interested in plans, so I'll write them up in pdf format.

The Village Carpenter

My blog title is named for a book by Walter Rose, called The Village Carpenter. It's a book that I wished would never end. The author writes about carpentry, working in his grandfather's shop in Victorian England, at a time when the carpenter was vital to the life of the village and whose duties encompassed a much broader range of skills and projects than what we think of as carpentry today. The village carpenter in the late 19th c. was responsible for building everything from windows & doors to coffins to fences & gates to furniture to buckets & washboards and more. He was a thread that tied the community together, often having to work on sight, gaining an intimate understanding of the villagers in whose homes he would work for weeks on end.

Walter Rose eloquently recounts stories about the men who worked in the shop, their tools, their projects, and their interaction with the villagers. Here is an excerpt from his book:

"It is in the workshop and at the bench that an insight into the soul of wood craftsmanship can be truly gained. There are tools, there is the wood—rude planks, ungarnished, their surface scored with the saw. Between them, and without which each is useless, must come the soul and spirit of the designer and craftsman; the deft hands prompted by an alert mind; the knowledge attained only through years of study and service; the creative instinct and ability that will, by the correct use of the tools, transform the mere plank into a thing of usefulness and beauty—possibly a joy for ever."

The entire book is filled with memorable passages and woodworking wisdom that has since been forgotten but is still relevant. He reflects on the personality of wood and the connection between the carpenter and his tools—a connection so absolute, that the same tool in another woodworker's hands would not respond the same.

It's a must-read for anyone who is passionate about woodworking or who would like to gain insight into the soul of a woodworker.

Bullet Designs & Finger Pulls

The bullet-shaped carving found in 16th c. New Mexican furniture is also found in chipcarved decorations that adorn 18th c. Dutch planes. A similar shape, an inset finger pull, is found on sliding lid candle boxes from the 18th and 19th c.

Maybe that shape has shown up all over the world because it's so easy to make.

In the photos at right, I did not make the Dutch planes* (of course), but I did make the New Mexican style cabinet and sliding lid box.













For the bullet shape, use a gouge with a pronounced curve. I used a #10/12mm straight gouge. Hold the gouge about 60 or so degrees to your workpiece—leaning the tool back a bit so the outer tips of the blade do not enter the wood—and strike it with a mallet. If you make this cut perfectly vertical, your bullet shape will look like it has little horns, which of course you might prefer.

Next, begin the second cut as far back from the first cut as you would like for the length of the bullet to be. Start with a shallow cut that increases in depth until you reach the initial cut. The chip should pop right out.
















The finger pull is a similar procedure, except I make the initial cut with an exacto blade, and a more shallow gouge (I used a #5) is used to make the second cut. The knife incision is a straight line and deepest at its center. I keep a little nylon brush on hand to remove chips that don't want to "pop right out."









*Photo of Dutch planes is from Sandor Nagyszalancy's book The Art of Fine Tools.