My father is a carpenter. Not, like, by trade, but by hobby. We moved all over the country growing up, and once we started buying houses instead of renting, he always built a deck on the back. All but one time--in Georgia--but it had a screened in concrete floored porch the length of the house. Oh, and Georgia was a lousy time for us. But everywhere else, a deck.
He built bunkbeds when I was 4 that my daughter still has in her room.
When I was 5, he built a "stereo cabinet" from Better Homes & Gardens plans, that my TV in the basement now sits on. Leo is playing Xbox on it as I write.
He built in cabinets where we lived, and he got better as time went on. Then he moved to St. Louis and converted an upstairs/downstairs 2-family flat into a 1-family townhouse that is woodworked to the max. He paneled the front hall. He converted the modest apartment steps into a grand staircase. Created mantels and kitchen cabinets. Made a beautiful home, from scratch.
He built a 10 person dining room table out of an ash tree his grandfather planted.
My dining room cabinet is his work; so is Sophia's hope chest that is as big as a loveseat.
On Saturday, he's coming to my house. He's expanding the little finished part of the basement to make a nice place for kids to hang out and maybe a corner for my sewing to live in.
"I'll get it done Saturday," he says. I know he doesn't mean everything--but he does mean almost everything.
And it will be perfectly done.
Wow! I am SO envious.ReplyDelete
Yes. What Helen said.ReplyDelete
This is wonderful. When my dad would visit he would do some handiwork around the house (and check our large appliances making sure they were in good working order) but he never expanded a room. In a day.ReplyDelete
This is so, so wonderful and I too am envious.ReplyDelete