This is an exercise in delayed gratification. I have two more years to wait for this urban lumber harvest to come to fruition. But the hard work is finished.
About a year ago, this tree fell in my neighbor’s back yard, crushing her cinder-block garage. The tree finally gave up in the rain-saturated ground. Luckily nobody was injured.
With my neighbor’s permission, I began the process of harvesting the tree for use in furniture.
The tree trunk was on average 48″ in diameter – much larger than the deck of a portable bandsaw mill – so I had to split the log into quarters. The process was slow at first, but once I discovered this 30″ chainsaw available for rent locally, I got the job done.
Plan A involved bringing the bandsaw mill to the logs, but we soon discovered that the quarters were each as heavy as the average log, and much more awkward because of the geometry. It was on to Plan B, which involved renting a skid steer loader and hauling the logs to the sawmill.
These were the narrow boards, believe it or not. I brought the first 15 boards, the widest of the bunch, home from the sawmill the night before. The widest boards were well over 20″ wide.
I unloaded five boards and got them stacked before I gave up, exhausted. I got up early the next morning, stacked the rest of the boards from the first load in the driveway, and drove back out to the sawmill to pick up this load. It was one of the few times in my life when I was relieved to have some narrow boards to work with.
Finally, with a little help from my brother-in-law, I got all the boards unloaded and leaning against the back of my garage workshop. The moisture content of these boards were enough to make the wider ones very difficult to manage.
There was a long piece of iron, like a large nail, several inches long and coiled inside one of the four logs. This caused staining on some of the boards, and ruined a few saw blades.
It’s hard to feel bad about it, because there was so much good lumber out of it. I’m looking forward to experimenting with the stained stuff.
One option would be to ebonize it, but I can also picture a more postmodern approach, making use of an Arts and Crafts design vocabulary appropriate for quartersawn oak, but tinting the pieces blue with a dye. This might make for interesting children’s furniture, or even a hip update on a Stickley design.
Don, the man with the sawmill and my go-to guy for urban lumber, asked me if I’d do it all over again. “I think so,” I said. That was before I finished unloading. Still, I’d have to say yes. It’s an amazing sense of acomplishment, taking the wood from tree to lumber. Hopefully I’ll have the chance to see it the rest of the way through the lifecycle. Knock on… well, never mind.
Here it is, all stacked and ready to air-dry behind my workshop, a time capsule to be ignored and forgotten until summer, 2010. This should be enough oak to last me several years.
Update: Cross-posted at Moseley WoodWorks.
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