Everything from a chop saw down to a needle. Tools are the extension of my creative mind. They are the extension of my hand. Even a piece of sandpaper, while used with vigorous or gentle application, is a tool.
What would I do without them? Where would I be? I love my Dremel and all the little bits and pieces that make me able to polish, refine, carve, drill, and screw.
In my garage is an ancient drill press. It has an ancient drill stabilized in it. The drill is SO old that it doesn’t work in reverse. That is old for a tool. The press itself is old as well, but it still works. It still allowed me to make that new swing seat for the grandkids. I love well made tools.
There are those tools in the studio that don’t use any other energy than my own, like the brushes for painting. Completely dependent on my keeping them in good condition. Pallet knives, brushes, toothbrushes, pencils, pens, markers…all tools of creativity.
I honestly think I would die if I could not create and use tools.
In the kitchen, that toaster oven saves me the energy cost of using the larger oven. The ‘magic bullet’ juicer just mashed down carrots and oranges into a delightful and nourishing juice for the next couple of days. The hose at the sink, that allows me to wash out the compost bucket into the garbage disposal (i love that garbage disposal, I even feed it spoons occasionally).
The hose and the garden tools. Where would I be without that hose? Those grapes would certainly not be watered. That flat edged shovel? Nothing better for its assigned tasks. That small spade for gardening, the pitchfork, the rake, the weed eater, the lawn mower (driving it is SUCH a gift to me with my hip issues). Tools are the saving grace of the crippled legged human, me.
The needle and thread. Soon to be creating a quilt for a beloved child. The television or radio that occupy my mind and heart with song or story, while I push and pull that needle through fabric, tightening down fabrics or pulling together beads to form an image or design. Sigh. Such good things, are tools.
This computer, a means to share and express.
The air conditioner that not only cools the house, but also draws moisture out of the air and deposits it into a bucket. The bucket! That carries the recycled water from the kitchen outdoors to the desired location in the garden, watering that now growing Pin Oak that will one day, not too long from now, into a provision of shade and beauty.
The garbage cans, the compost bin, the recycle container, precious and loving things that serve a holistic purpose. My heart flutters at their contribution to a better life.
The rope that hangs the swing for those kiddos that love the shade of the Choke-Cherry tree, a quiet place to contemplate joy for your average five year old little girl, or bored eight year old boy because grandma has no video games.
Scissors and exacto knives! Kitchen knives! Carving knives! Utility knives! That knife I keep in my purse in case I come across something that I can harvest from nature to either transplant in the garden or use in some form of art.
Fans. I’m a fan of fans. Cars! Bikes! Wrenches and pliers! Screwdrivers and bits that can exchange. Dvd players and stereos. Bookcases, recliners, chairs on wheels, chairs without wheels. Tables. Toothbrushes. Hairbrushes. Smart or not smart phones. Cable for whatever purpose. Chains on the car tires or holding down that window shade that flops constantly without the weight keeping the wind from waving it like a flag.
That cement mixer. Those bins that hold the cement and gravel. Pitchers that carry water to the studio, or anywhere, to get water there for cooling hot metal, or mixing into small amounts of cement. Molds!! Shape that cement into something fun for the garden, or something practical like stepping stones.
Loofa sponges! Baskets! Remote controls to whatever they are needed for. Eyeglass cases to protect those handy eye helpers from being scratched up. Magnifier lense headgear, hands free to see those details that are important to the discerning eye.
I love tools. I love the people that create them. When it comes to tools, I don’t mind one bit paying for the quality item. Tools are divine intervention for awkwardly limited flesh and bone.
Sometimes an exercise in gratefulness is a necessary means of voiding the negative in the world. I can escape inside the plan to make something for someone, or a purpose, or to make a few bucks. I can plan in my mind and on that piece of paper, a rough sketch, a list, some measurements, and make a list of things that lead to feeling accomplishment, because tools are there for me to use.
During the days of living in a pickup truck (yep), the tools in the back were essential, the tools in my bag were as well. Today, in the trunk of my car, even though I live in the city and rarely leave it anymore, there is that spade in case of fire needs, and that potty chair and pie tin, cos you NEVER know when you might actually need it.
I’m glad I was a Girl Scout. I’m glad I’ve lived in adversity. I’m glad I can build a trap, make a fire, make a temporary shelter. I’m glad that my Creator put me through the reality of poverty and difficulty, because I can do. I can do, and I keep my dearly loved friends, a variety of tools, in good shape with respect.