I haven't forgotten about Workbenchapalooza2017, it's just that work got busy and ate all my weekends the past couple of months. I've been stealing a few hours here and there.
I finally completed initial assembly of the prototype/archetype workbench I'll be using in the workshop. Design criteria:
- Inexpensive materials
- No fussy joints; it's all flat-stock glue & screw.
- Stong and rigid; top section is a 7.5"-thick box-beam that will take a sledgehammer blow.
- Easily replaceable top surface; it's just a trimmed sheet of 3/4" particle board with some optional edging.
- Storage; "I could count myself the king of infinite space were it not that I needed more flat surfaces."
- Drawers are just an optional insert.
- Disassemblable; it tears down into several flat panels.
I have dubbed the design 'Bork', which is either short for Borkwench, or alternatively in honor of Ikea. Your pick.
The assembly fit is a little subpar as it was the working development prototype, but I think it's also good enough to be the first production unit. Now for a bunch more.
Ovenbirds are my favorite of the warblers, so I was heartbroken earlier today when I heard a 'THUNK' against the window behind me, and looked outside to see an ovenbird stretched out on the ground on its back, not moving.
I went outside to check it, and it was still breathing erratically. After about ten minutes of twitching, it finally righted itself and looked around briefly, but was still too stunned to do anything. It did not object to me being next to it, so I figured I'd sit and guard it until it either regained its senses or finally succumbed. After another fifteen minutes or so, it clumsily staggered into a bush, where it hunkered down and curled up. This was the longest recovery I'd witnessed for a stunned songbird, and I didn't expect it to make it.
In late afternoon, about eight hours later, I checked it again and it had not moved. Breathing, yes, but still apparently 'asleep'. Cam agreed this did not bode well.
I wandered off to shoot a few targets (setting up a new bow! yay!) and once the sun was well behind the trees, was wheeling the portable target block back to the garage. I passed the bush where the ovenbird was holed up, and it popped out, looked startled, and flew off. It was clumsy getting into the air, but it managed. Perhaps a recent fledge?
Good luck little birb.
Given their long-distance migrations to southern climates, I always thought of monarch butterflies as exotic creatures that bred elsewhere and only visited when passing through. Of course, that's not true. Still, most of my formative exposure to monarchs led me to believe that, around here, they only thrived in elementary school classroom monarch hatchery kits.
We have a decent amount of milkweed growing around the house in NH. George and Cam spotted quite a few monarch caterpillars a few weeks back, and we'd been watching the perfect green chrysalises. When we got in Friday, George excitedly pointed out a 'newborn monarch" pumping its wings open!
Another hatched a little later, and a few more of the chrysalises are starting to darken. So perfect and shiny...
...and the autofocus on my Nikon seems to be off... But just look at that face!
Guess who I found all spiffy and alert and about three inches across as I opened the door toward the shop room!
What a gorgeous fishing spider. Either she just got in, or there's more for her to eat in here than I expected.
[Fishing spiders are huge but ~ harmless. And yes, they really do catch fish.]
Last summer I bought a house in New Hampshire for living as well as greatly expanded workshop space. The kids are up here about half the time, and it's a holiday getaway for Camilla as well. I've been moving in slowly since July (Priusful by Priusful, with the occasional Minivan Marathon) and finishing the unfinished space inside one room at a time.
A few weeks ago, George apparently claimed one of the as-yet-unused rooms for his own workshop. (The other side says 'Do Not Disturb').