My BusyBee dust collection kit arrived--hoses and blast gates. There's even an attachment I can fit to the table saw. While I plan to mount the dust extractor
outside the workshop, for now I have stationed it next to the thickness planer. It is not only more efficient than the old ShopVac, but much quieter. True, it is killing me with invisible microparticulate, but at least it isn't noisy. I routed the hose so that I could still use the top rollers of the planer. As soon as I started it, chips began to swirl into the lower bin--and the planer wasn't on yet: it was pulling out shavings that the vacuum had failed to. Having done this much and planed a couple of oak boards to three-quarter inch thickness, I started tidying. At first, I simply swept; the previous attempt at drawing away the shavings had allowed many to escape and drift about the shop. I soon found myself stumbling about in the clutter; once again, so much junk has accumulated in the workshop that I cannot really move about easily. Recalling that the Lion's Club had kindly set up a scrap metal hopper, I began to look about for objects to dump. Most were made of wood or plastic, but a few items came to hand, including this blast from the past. This is the 60 amp switch from the original electrical installation.
It has a satisfying heft, and I was strangely reluctant to part with it, but I will NEVER EVER use it for anything, so out it went. It was a product of the Electrical Manufacturing Company of Montmagny, Quebec. They seem to have changed their name in 1965, so the switch is presumably older. I also found the original distribution centre, with its six glass fuses still in place. This provided far less than the house needed, even with its minimal lighting. They managed by scabbing on an extra fused holder--a porcelain piece with two more 15-amp circuits. Finally, they ran the wiring for the range
directly to the main switch, so it was fused only by the paper main fuses. Here is the old panel, complete with handy labels. You can still read "kitchen," "upstairs," "dryer," and (rather illegible) "living room/fridge." I well remember the dance we had to do around its limitations--if the pump was on together with the stove, it was important NOT to use the dryer! Well, we survived.
In any case, the day began with wood working but shifted
decidedly toward trash removal. I suppose that was the beginning of spring cleaning. It is quite cathartic--so many things become burdens: the alternator salvaged from the Lada in the Canadian Tire parking lot; the front strut for the 1984 Honda, still in its package; my original thickness planer, with cracked bearings and seized drive chain. . . .
What a difference 24 hours can make. The first week of April saw lovely, gentle spring weather--followed by a substantial snowstorm. Even deep in the woods the snow was in full retreat, and then the storm came.
The sky became overcast and sullen, the colours faded away, and it looked once more like the bleak midwinter.
My BusyBee dust collection kit arrived--hoses and blast gates. There's even an attachment I can fit to the table saw. While I plan to mount the dust extractor outside the workshop, for now I have stationed it next to the thickness planer. It is not only more efficient than the old ShopVac, but much quieter. True, it is killing me with invisible microparticulate, but at least it isn't noisy. I routed the hose so that I could still use the top rollers of the planer. As soon as I started it, chips began to swirl into the lower bin--and the planer wasn't on yet: it was pulling out shavings that the vacuum had failed to. Having done this much and planed a couple of oak boards to three-quarter inch thickness, I started tidying. At first, I simply swept; the previous attempt at drawing away the shavings had allowed many to escape and drift about the shop. I soon found myself stumbling about in the clutter; once again, so much junk has accumulated in the workshop that I cannot really move about easily. Recalling that the Lion's Club had kindly set up a scrap metal hopper, I began to look about for objects to dump. Most were made of wood or plastic, but a few items came to hand, including this blast from the past. This is the 60 amp switch from the original electrical installation.
It has a satisfying heft, and I was strangely reluctant to part with it, but I will NEVER EVER use it for anything, so out it went. It was a product of the Electrical Manufacturing Company of Montmagny, Quebec. They seem to have changed their name in 1965, so the switch is presumably older. I also found the original distribution centre, with its six glass fuses still in place. This provided far less than the house needed, even with its minimal lighting. They managed by scabbing on an extra fused holder--a porcelain piece with two more 15-amp circuits. Finally, they ran the wiring for the range directly to the main switch, so it was fused only by the paper main fuses. Here is the old panel, complete with handy labels. You can still read "kitchen," "upstairs," "dryer," and (rather illegible) "living room/fridge." I well remember the dance we had to do around its limitations--if the pump was on together with the stove, it was important NOT to use the dryer! Well, we survived. 
