Now it’s January, my first course at Plymouth CRAFT is coming up. I think there’s one more space; keep in mind there’s more happening there that weekend – here’s the blurb for the knitting class



I’m not much for New Year’s resolutions – one I had half-made was to spend less time reading at the screens here – and that’s right out the window, thanks to Dave Fisher. He just started a blog. I really like Dave’s stuff – we met once when he came through Plimoth while I was there. So I’ll watch his blog regularly. His bowls are really out of this world – as I plod deeper & deeper into hewing bowls, Dave’s my inspiration. He’s stronger than me, and his tools are sharper – he hews bowls from cherry! Here’s the link:

Dave Fisher bowl



I’ve been thinking about a series called “tools from my chest” because there’s some I use all the time that I haven’t talked about in 8 years’ worth of blog posts. But, I’ll start with a brand-new one – a carving hatchet that I got from Robin Wood. This isn’t the one from John Neeman that somehow has Robin’s name on it – I’m not sure what that story is, but this is designed by and made for Robin, specifically for carving spoons and bowls. Priced so it’s within reach of most, it feels way better than its price range. (right now it’s £35 plus £22 for shipping to the US.)  

The specifics are on his site – but if you’re looking for a nice small carving hatchet, and the likes of Hans Karlsson are beyond your present budget, this is the hatchet for you. His knives are real nice as well; I got some of his hooks for use with students. I see that the hatchets are out of stock, Christmas must have wiped him out. Next batch in March it says.

robin wood hatchet

RW hatchet head

RW hatchet head profile


Two birds well suited to their environment. This redtail hawk would have eluded me if I hadn’t seen it fly into this sycamore tree. His brown and white feathers blend well with the bark – 

hidden redtail

This little grey screech owl is a different story. Our neighbors told us he’d taken to roosting in this duck box. If he sat on the branches, he’d be harder to see. He cares not, just plops into the box when some photographers get out of the car, Marie. 




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