Issue # 72 Updates from the Woods

Adventures in Oak

I don’t write that much about working in the woods here, despite the fact that it takes up the majority of my time each week. It’s also where I often have the closest encounters with nature, and where life feels the most simple, making things with my hands and working with the rhythm of the land.

I don’t know why I don’t write about it much. Perhaps I take it for granted that my work is interesting. I forget to remind myself how fortunate I am and how hard I’ve worked to get here. It’s too easy to forget the good things.

There is a romance to the idea of quitting everything, getting back to basics and working with the land isn’t there? Quitting your job and heading to the woods to eke out a living. I can confirm that the reality holds true to a certain extent. There is hardship too however, and struggle and pain. There are those who circumvent the struggle by coming to woods with money already in their pockets, but if you haven’t struggled, have you really experienced the romance in full?

This last few weeks has mostly been about oak. Cleaving large stems into smaller pieces for fencing posts and rails. In case you don’t know, cleaving or riving is the art of splitting a length of wood along the grain. The practitioner of oak cleaving must learn to work with the wood, allowing the split to follow its own path resulting in exceptionally strong timber full of character and energy that can’t be matched by sawn timber. It begins with wedges and a sledge hammer, starting at one end and gradually working towards the other, leap frogging the wedges as you go, opening up the trunk along its length. Each stem is different. The longer and straighter the better. Some give up their secrets easily, others are fibrous and tough and put up a fight until the last moment. The trunk is first halved, then quartered, then split further into eighths or even sixteenths depending on the size of the tree and which product is needed.

After the cleaving is done, it’s time to clean up the raggedy bits, shaping and hewing with an axe before smoothing with a super sharp draw knife, following naturally occurring curves and lines, allowing the wood itself to guide you.

Working with wood in this way is a feast for the senses. The sounds of oak sinews slowly giving way, cracking and creaking under extreme tension before the pop of two halves separating. The sharp, citrus scent of tannin soaked wood, bitter yet sweet and deeply fragrant. The roughness of bark and cool freshness of green wood.

And let’s not forget splinters, plenty of splinters.

Then there’s the sights, sounds and smells of the woods themselves, bustling with life and energy at this time of year. As we work we are accompanied by chiff chaffs, wood warblers and the occasional wood pecker and the air is full of every kind of fly. The constant drone of tiny beating wings infiltrates my ear drums. A shrew darts to and fro, nothing more than a tiny shadow slipping across the woodland floor from one hiding place to the next, like an electrical current seeking the path of least resistance.

Once the oak has been cleft into manageable pieces, it can be carried out of the woods by hand for further finishing and finally, assembly into something beautiful.

It’s quite a journey from tree to finished product. There is satisfaction in knowing I have been involved in every part of the process - from selecting the tree and watching it fall to hammering tiny oak pegs and copper nails. This is a cleft oak gate I finished recently - it’s good to think of all the little moments in the woods that went into making it. After days of hauling heavy timbers and driving wedges, being back in the workshop, cutting mortices and tenons, chamfering edges and thinking about design is a welcome rest for the body.

Tools of the trade

Out of all the things I do for what could be described as ‘work’ woodworking is the one I’d like to do more of. It is hard to make a living making things with your hands. It takes courage to charge enough to truly cover the time it takes to make something. Value is subjective. But there is a simple honesty and integrity to this way of working that is intensely rewarding in a way that outstrips monetary remuneration. If only integrity alone could pay the bills…

It is hard to make space and time for finding wood working commissions when other paid work has to take priority, but this summer (such as it is) it’s something I’m going to focus on with new intensity.

With this in mind, there may well be more tales from the my days in the woods appearing here on Substack. I hope this will be a welcome addition to our usual musings on the natural world and stories of adventure. Do let us know in the comments!

Until next time with warm wishes,

Andrew, Emma and Benji x