For the last few years, a giant pile of wood has languished behind my dad’s place. It actually came from Chuck’s dad’s stockpile. It’s funny how the stuff moves around and you just expect that it’s there and move on. Last week I got curious, so I took a small sampling and hauled it home to find out what it was and if it was any good anymore.
It’s been sitting outside basically uncovered and out in the elements for at least two years. I cut into one piece and ran it across a sander and joiner just to take a look. After a little oil to freshen it up it and make sure I was indeed seeing what I thought I was seeing, it turns out that at least some of the pile is quarter-sawn oak.
For an amateur furniture builder like me, I might as well have found an old muscle car in the garage that for its entire life was only driven to church and back. This kind of thing just doesn’t happen — to us, anyway. Sure, it’s not maple or mahogany, but were that the case it probably would have just split and have been ruined anyway.
Now all I’ve got to do it resaw, cut, plane and sand the stuff back into usable stock. Even if we lose half of it in the preparation, it’s still cheaper than buying it.