Just Plane Frustrated

Plane blade with small nicks

It doesn't matter how much you love to do something there are times when it drives you crazy.  I'm in one of those spots right now with my hand planes.  I have three that I use the most and I managed to damage the blades of all three around the same time. More experienced woodworkers will sometimes look at me incredulously and ask, "How did you do that?" meaning wow what a talent for screwing up.

I wanted to get a couple of projects out the door so I didn't stop and give the the planes proper attention. When I nicked the blade on one, I went to another one only to nick that blade by hitting a brass bench dog with it. Brass bench dogs are supposed to be less damaging to plane blades than steel ones.  I don't doubt that and I'd hate to see what a mess I could have made if I had hit a steel one. The third plane has always been difficult to sharpen as the edge seems to break down very quickly. No more back-up planes so I have to do what I should have done in the first place: fix them.

Wooden bench dog

brass bench dog

The best way to get the nicks out of a blade is to create a flat right on the edge of the blade until you've removed material just past the level of the nick. Then you can regrind the primary bevel and proceed to sharpen as usual. At least, that's the theory. You can use a powered grinding wheel which is the quickest way, or you can use sheets of sand paper on a dead-flat granite block to abrade the steel. If you go the power route you have to be careful not to get the steel too hot.  In theory, a cutting edge is a strip of material only a molecule wide where two flat planes meet. Of course, an edge that small would to too fragile to work so woodworkers try to get the edge thin enough to cut well but thick enough to withstand a reasonable amount of planing before it needs to be resharpened. The other thing to consider is that you don't want to go right to the edge with a coarse grinding stone because that will leave serrations in the edge and you'll be back to where you started from.

I think the problem I'm having is that I haven't yet gotten rid of the flat I created on the end of the blade. The plane works well for really thin feathery shavings but I can't get a thicker shaving with it. I would love to just throw up my hands and  quit but  nobody else is going to bail me out. If I want the planes to work I have to find a way to fix them. I've already spent more than a day working on the blades and the child within me is pouting, stamping her feet and wailing, "It's not fair." No it's not. I should have working blades after that amount of time but there's no arguing with results or lack thereof. I need the planes in top shape to do my work especially as I experiment with creating thin stock that I can heat and bend. I'm slowly sneaking up on the dream of making ukuleles and have a series of projects in mind that will allow me to develop the skills I need to attempt an instrument.

I thought that most of the skill development in this phase would have to do with wood. Apparently I have a lot still to learn about care and feeding of my hand planes. I used to tell my students that the only serious mistake is one from which you learn nothing.  I don't know if I've learned to be more careful.  I thought I was being careful in the first place. I'm considering using only wooden dogs. I've had it reinforced for me that I really do want to do this work and I want to get good at it so there's really only one choice.  I'll make myself a cup of tea,  take a few deep breaths and head back  into the shop to start working on the blades again. I'll go farther toward the leading edge this time and I'll have to forget about how much time it's taking and just work away until I get the results I want. Paul Sellers said in his most recent post, "When you cross over from impatience to patience, and that is very much requisite to fine hand work, you move towards mastery, better health and wellbeing." If I can achieve even some of those goals the effort will be worth it.

Gone with the woodpecker

The photo I didn't take.

I have a good life.  I know that and in spite of that knowing sometimes I get grumpy.  I mean REALLY  grumpy. I feel I'm getting old, losing my balance; responsibilities look like burdens; I should exercise and I don't; the dust bunnies in the house are about to chew my foot off and my study looks like a bomb hit it - as usual. I want to cuddle a pet but Odie bites me. My brain knows that these are minor irritations and still, I'm grumpy.

I'm not always sure what causes me to be so cranky but I know what caused it a few days ago.  I woke up from a 'frustration' dream.  I have them often enough to be annoying. The most common one involves being in the wrong school and realizing that my class at the right school is starting and I have to get across town to teach.  A variation is that I've been hired back for one semester after retiring but no one will give me a timetable or tell me what room my class meets in so I wander the halls trying to find out where I should be, worrying about the kids in class with no teacher and worrying that I'm not doing my job.  One dream, not a teaching dream for a change, had me losing a friend's car and running around the neighbourhood trying to find it. When I wake up from such a dream I feel uneasy and frustrated.  That's how I woke up the other morning.

I grumbled my way out to the kitchen and put on the kettle then went over to Odie's cage to lift his cover. I had to cover half way off when a movement at the window caught my eye.  I saw black and white feathers at the edge of the eves trough.  "Magpie," I thought  and then looked more closely.  There it was: a  downy woodpecker.  I stopped, the cage cover in my hands.  The little bird hung upside down from the eves trough, looked around and pecked tentatively at the spot where the eves trough joins the house.  I was within two arm's lengths of him.  After a frozen moment I began to reach for my phone hoping for a picture.  I wasn't slow enough.  The woodpecker flew off and I finished uncovering Odie.  I was smiling. The greyness of the dream was gone and in that instant the colour of the day changed,  thanks to a tiny woodpecker.