My workshop is a cold mess. But, first let me establish that I could hang out all day in the right workshop. I’m a geek for the general manipulation of raw materials into other, presumably more useful, things. I especially like the smells – the tang of cut pine, the sweetness of oak sawdust, even the rich scent of oil and lubricants.

However, my workshop, as for so many other handy folk, is also my garage. In the summer it can be made an inviting space: tools neatly on hooks and in drawers, spare lumber arranged by size on the wall rack above the radial and band saws, benches clear and clean.

Late winter is a different story. The benches are piled with tools that have been taken down for use, but not put back. Why? Because it’s miserable work to slide by a car dripping ice water and road salt.

The garage is cold and dark, even in the light of the six four-foot LEDs. Frosted leaves litter the floor mingled with a dark crust of salt and sand.

True fact: Once a month, I sweep the garage, admire the shiny clean floor, and then scrutinize the trees, yard, and driveway. Not a leaf in sight. Next day, and I am not kidding, nature kicks up a wind, borrowing leaves from the neighbors I guess, and there they are, back.

I can, even in the dead of winter, make a very pleasant workplace. Sweep. Ban cars to the driveway. Keep the door closed.  Fire up the kerosene heater. Activate the extra LEDs. Put everything back in its place. Get to work. 

I constructed 18 kitchen cabinet doors over a couple of months a few winters ago. It was nice and warm in that “hah take that winter” feeling you sometimes get hunkered like a turtle in your parka as you walk across a parking lot in subzero wind and snow.

But, since prepping the workspace is so much work, lacking a long-term project that would make all the prep worthwhile, I’m content to avoid the garage and wait for spring.