Transitional Project #7322

I found a nice transitional plane at an antique warehouse in St. Jacob's, Ontario. It was complete, the beech body had no checking, and the only thing that seemed to be broken was the rear grip. It looks like a Stanley #28, but it is probably a knock-off; I didn't see the brand name in the end stamping or on the cast pieces.

There was a sizeable chip out of the top of the handle, and it was cracked right across near the base.

At another antique warehouse, I found a pile of handplane handles (for $3 each--wish I'd bought a bunch!). I thought I might use one on the transitional.

The metal shaft for the old handle was a #12 NC 24, so I dug out a die and threaded a slightly longer metal rod to match the new handle.  The new handle had a more upright stance than the original, so I had to make a sharp kink in the shaft near the base. It was also bigger--it actually fitted my hand, which the original did not.

Here's a small bonus: the lateral adjustment lever does not scrape my fingers, as it did in the original set up. I thought the less acute angle might hamper the action, but it seems fine.









The new handle is also very attractive--rosewood, possibly. I'm not a fan of antiques for show alone, but I like the ones I can use. Some folks scoff at transitional planes, but I find them appealing. Although they don't have the snob appeal of the all-wood models, they are quick to set up, durable--and cheap! Mine was CAN$35, which isn't bad for a decent model. I suppose I've ruined its authenticity now, but transitionals don't really have that kind of cachet to begin with. Maybe I'll drill it through and add a guide!

Death of the Ironwood

The hophornbeam has been failing for the last couple of years. At one point, it was the only large tree on the property, apart from the few remaining boundary spruce. Now its fall will scarcely change the appearance of the yard, though it is sad to see such a fine tree dying by inches.





For the last two summers, few branches have sported leaves. Most were ominously dry sticks carrying some lichen and no new growth.

 Only the very top branches lived on, and this year there is scarcely any canopy left. Last fall, I trimmed it back to avoid the power lines and Peter's trailer, which he parked in the driveway.

Also, there is a curious zig-zag crack running from the bole right up the main stem. In a strong wind, it champs slightly, like one of the orifices of Tolkien's Old Man Willow. The bark is sloughing off like old snakeskin, and more and more branches bow down toward the ground.

I feel there is a House of Usher moment approaching, and I want to bring it down before then. I will be stealing scaffolding from the front gable project so that I can take it down piecemeal, starting with  the branches I trimmed last year. I wonder how hard it will be to cut? It is, after all, IRONWOOD.