I love my wooden children

Wood is like children, you love them equally but in such different ways. 

Hardwood is my older child, dark, hard to shape and buff, but once it is done, it is almost unbreakable. 


Oak (pictured in the middle) is my youngest, raised carefully and so easily shaped, but temperamental and breaks at the least provocation until you are done and strengthened is with love, polish and loads of care. Then it is so very pretty and you love showing it off. 
Then there is pine. The middle child. You almost do not notice how easy it is to mold, works beautifully and quick. But average in looks and strength unless cared for and regularly oiled and buffed. Yet it bruises so easily, but you almost never notice.  

And then there is the Grandchild Wood. Those that you get for free (no cost or morning sickness or hard labours) that just pops into your life (like wood you get for free) and are so clever and easy enjoyable to turn and shape... and then the tantrums start and you give them back to the parents quicksmart. Or throw them on the Nicely Shaped, Time Wasted Upon-firewood heap.

But i am blessed that I am able to have it and shape in into useful or just pretty items. I love my ch..e.. wood.