During these dark pre-solstice days in the North West when the impenetrable clouds and steady drizzle diffuse and obscure the low set sun it’s easy to fall into a state of perpetual melancholia. The light we find must come from sources other than our closest star.
Yesterday I crossed bridges and travelled through tunnels to deliver a table to the outer reaches of Vancouver’s suburban sprawl. Though it was still early in the afternoon the indicator on my dashboard was telling me I needed to turn on my lights. My windshield wipers intermittently cleared the accumulating precipitation. I’d spent a few extra days finishing the table top—carefully mixing the stains to match the other pieces in the client’s house and flattening the grain to get it to the point of a smooth mirror surface. It turned out beautifully and the client was very appreciative. She even gave me a hug and a bag of her home made shortbread cookies. These exchanges are what get me through the Vancouver winters. I need to spend time to ensure whatever I produce creates a little extra light.
The table leaves mid-process
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