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Yesterday was spent by the ocean. Wink is 2.0′s grandfather. He was a lobster fisherman, and he built the house that he and his wife, Helen, still live in today. His barn/workshop is one of the coolest places I’ve visited in a while, so I tiptoed around taking pictures lest I forget it. I’ll be back tomorrow with a recipe. In the meantime, imagine the smells of the sea, cobweb-covered fishing gear, sawdust and wood filling your nose…
movita, i am RIGHT there with you! your photos captured the smell and feel of an old man’s workshop as well as could ever be done! beautiful light, beautiful old worn tools. LOVED it!!
These really are some classic photos… like the ones you would find in a very cool, oversized, coffee table book on old barns and workshops… hint hint.
This is awesome. I’ve never been in a grandfather’s workshop before. I love all the litte details, down to the beautiful font of the numbers on the ruler. Wow.
And no workshop is complete without Captain Morgan.
Beautiful photos! Reminds me my uncle’s workshop in my grandparents’ house. I used to spend hours in there just looking at all the old stuff. I’ll bet if I traipsed through Wink’s place, I’d be instantly transported by the smell.
Great photos, that workshop does have some great finds! I could snoop around in there for awhile-I love places like that. I actually feel as if I have been there. Thanks for this visit to Winks workshop, I enjoyed it!
See,they did turn out….
All the nifty things in there,you have such an eye for pictures!
Love it! It’s just like my garden shed.
It reminds me of grandfather Eisan’s workshop in the old garage (long gone) in Hatchet Lake – minus the Captain.
After looking at your pictures I felt salt spray on my face. Love the photos.
I think Wink and I would get along just fine…judging by Mr. Captain Morgain and all…
Beautiful!
Lovely photos! And I could smell the exact scents you were describing.
Your gorgeous pictures make me feel the bit of ocean air just a shade away, I can almost smell the salty tang of the shore side, the seaweed washed up on the rocks making them slippy and alive. I’m longing now to work in an old potting shed, like the one my grampa had, the smell of moist, black soil heavy in the air; the texture of earth under my fingers and the green smell of tomatoes washing over me.
Sigh. I miss the sea my friend.
What evocative photos … remind me of a different place and time, memories from way back in childhood. I’ve sent this one on to my guy who loves photography, tools and workshops – I know he’ll love this post.
What a bunch of cool old stuff!
Cool Photos!
This brings back so many sense~memories of my Grandfather’s place. I could live there. A place like that just feels like home to me. If only the walls could talk. And you know each and every tool has a story or three.
Thanks for sharing.
Just the kinda place I would have found my Pa or my Grandpa but in the red sands of Oklahoma or Texas.
People, your comments make my heart sing! You words are poetry… thanks for taking the time to visit Wink with me!
The smells and the sense of that workshop crowd out through your photos. Amazing. I spy a jar of screws calling out to be tipped over, sorted into piles then jumbled back up and tipped in again…
Your photos tell such a lovely story – I feel I can sense what Wink is like just by how he keeps his workshop. I love old things and loved how they look through your viewpoint – beautiful.
I second semiswede on this one– rum makes the workshop complete.