I started making my own bow last week.  It . . . was . . . quite . . . a . . . process.  Beavers occasionally abandon an inordinately large tree mid chomp.  Sometimes the exhausting effort is just not worth the outcome.  As I sat holding my hickory board, rasping off a fine layer of wood dust with each stroke, I nearly pulled a “beaver.”  My bow was taking its time emerging.  I had covered Gandhi’s autobiography, Frank Herbert’s Dune, Estudio no. 4 for guitar, Japanese vocabulary words for each season, the plight of the grasslands, the flight pattern of Pipilo maculates, relationships, death, my quest in life, eighty’s fashion (thank you Mathew for wearing that sweatshirt), and countless other topics in my head.  By the time I thought about living life on Pandora, I noticed my bow could actually bend a bit!  Finally!  Like endorphins hit a runner in the 14^th mile of a marathon, I experienced my first woodworker’s high.  Unfortunately, this elevation in spirits came on day three, the last day of bow making.  An additional long day of tillering (shaving off wood at specific locations to perfect the bow’s bend) should complete my bow. 

Every shave of the wood reminds me that I am constructing an object that solely depends upon my skill for its accuracy.  This bow is not a seventh grade tech. ed. project.  If I work patiently and steadily, rasp with care, I will produce a tangible object that I can actually use (none of my tech. ed. projects functioned properly).  It will not just be a wall hanging.  I am always caught off guard, however, that sometimes the simplest looking objects, like a smooth, streamline piece of wood, are the most difficult to make.  Wood, in particular, has an inherent simplicity that makes it unforgiving of blunders.  A wrong move with the rasp could mean a misshaped and, hence, an inaccurate bow.  If all goes according to plan, and impatience does not get the better of me, I will have a functioning hickory bow that I will be able to use for years to come.  I look forward to giving a deep sigh of satisfaction.