My Woodworking Journey

There’s something about wood — the grain, the weight, the patience it requires — that has always felt like home to me.

As a kid, I didn’t know I was “woodworking.” I was just building. A dog house. A pigeon coop. Anything that let me turn an idea into something real with my own two hands. I discovered early on that creating something useful for someone else brings a quiet kind of joy — the kind that stays with you.

In 2002, my father-in-law, Stuart Kingsley, handed me a scroll saw. I had no idea what to do with it at first, but I said yes anyway. That simple gift became a doorway. Plaques turned into wildlife art. Signs turned into keepsakes. Sawdust turned into something meaningful.

Today, I run a small, one-man, part-time shop. I build outdoor furniture, tables, cutting boards, bunk beds, coasters, wood mosaics — pieces meant to be lived with, used, and enjoyed. Nothing rushed. Nothing mass-produced. Just steady hands, honest materials, and gratitude for the chance to create.

Woodworking, for me, isn’t just about making things. It’s about slowing down. Paying attention. Building something that lasts a little longer than the moment.

And I’ll always be thankful to Stuart for seeing something in me before I fully saw it in myself.