Have you ever noticed how simple tasks can quickly become complicated far beyond what you would consider possible? For example – the other day I decided to start some seeds for my garden. Up here on the frozen tundra, that means planting them inside, because apparently seeds do not germinate well in the permafrost.
So, having procured said seeds and potting soil and containers of varying sizes and styles in which to plant my future bounty, I ran into a small problem. The folding tables that I was planning on using for this project were missing. (Borrowed by my progeny …)
Not to be daunted by such a small obstacle as this, I remembered that I had a perfectly sized piece of 3/4″-thick melamine in my shop – screw four makeshift legs onto it, and I would have a perfectly useable temporary table! But then, as I was walking out to my shop, I thought about the water that might drip off of this simple construction, and thought to myself … “Self, you could easily put a small lip around the edge of that melamine, to keep your floor dry!” After all, I am a woodworker and the lip would just be a few moments with a table saw and a nail gun. But before I even finished that thought, as I strolled the rest of the way to my workshop through the cool spring sunshine, it occurred to me that it would sure be nice if I could easily move that table out onto my deck on nice days, to get direct sunshine for the seedlings to grow in.
Well, I think you can see where this was leading: before long I was dusting off some casters that I had removed from an old piece of machinery and, in the space of a few hours, I completed a seed-starting cart, complete with storage for planting accessories and sundry items of backyard horticulture.
You know, all I had intended to do was to plant a few seeds.
Rob Johnstone, Woodworker’s Journal
