I find it curious how my enthusiasm for carving, as well as the many other interests I have, often waxes and wains throughout the year. Not that I am particularly capricious or changeable, but because of the pressures of those things I have to do in order to make a living, I sometimes find my zeal to forge ahead with my hobbies, due largely to the unending insistence of these other jobs that I give them my undivided attention, is not always as strong as on other occasions and I find myself submitting to these less enjoyable demands and, on occasion, metaphorically throwing up my hands in despair and saying "ok, that's it, I give up!" and turning my back on what I try to convince myself are mere follies and insubstantial trivialities. But those feelings rarely last for more than a couple of weeks or so and it is not long before, like an unfaithful lover, I come creeping back to my shed and my tools, and in no time at all I feel once more consumed by the desire to carve.
Three willow eating spoons, roughed out and ready for drying. This wood was a pleasure to carve, but is still green and moist and needs some time before I can finish and decorate.