Last weekend, I grabbed a short piece of birch from our wood pile and threw it on the lathe. I wanted to see how it turned when it was off-balance. I didn’t try and find the centres, I just kind of eyeballed it. Well, it turned down pretty well, but I had to take an awful lot off to get it round and straight. It was very satisfying to get a bunch of linguine noodle shavings. Not something that happens with dry and seasoned wood. It was quite a surprise when I got it to the finished stick how much moisture was still in the piece.
After I cleaned up the workshop I was sitting in the living room and I had what I would describe as a fire hangover. Jenn loves to have fires in our backyard firepit. We often burn birch. Actually, we almost exclusively burn birch. I love fires too, but it seems to take me three days to feel normal again. What I have described as a wood fire hangover. Well, after turning the piece of birch I felt the same way which leads me to guess that I am allergic to Birch. Not exactly scientific, but certainly the connection can’t be ignored.
To Everything, Turn...Turn...Turn 