OTB-new project knife

 This my latest conceptual work. I found another chisel in the woods, and on the detour, I met a fox in the moonlight... so I came up with an idea for a byknife for Úlenklawe named Maandevos (Monn-Fox)

The chisel had a carbon content of...yeah... that´s not that easy to say... for it contains a lot of Tungsten. I can tell you: Forging was not exactly easy. It´s a fully integral design that shall be engraved and inlaid... but engraving proves to be a bit arduous...;-) even if it is thoroughly annealed now...

I am a bit proud of my forging... seems I got something right.:-)

Another foraging stroll

Two weeks ago I went for another stroll after work. I just took the bus, had a coffee at an old smithy that now´s a restaurant, damnit;-) and a piece of cake, and then went into the woods to make for the long way home. In the woods there are many ancient crap deposits of the farms over there, and look, what I found: Those are railroad bolts of a high carbon content, aproximately 0,75 % after the spark analysis.

 I take this to be a feather from an Eurasian Jay, but might be mistaken... I took it behind my hatband, for I like the colours very much!

 TANK BURRRRRLLLL!!!!!;-) Now that´s a burl, is it?

 European larch hips. Taste great, have a very high content of Vitamin C, and, if you pour honey and schnapps over ém, make for an interesting drink that´s good against the cough and the cold...;-).

In another deposit I found this railroad bolt, some C 75 content, too. How they come to be disposed of there I can´t tell, but I do not complain any;-). 

Oh, and greater plantain (spergula mersonii, in German: Breitwegerich). Makes for a great herb against bronchitis, as an antiseptic in wound treatment, you can eat it in a salad (did that!;-)), and got some common plantain (plantago officinalis, in German: Spitzwegerich), too. This last herb is even better against bronchitis. I use the sap and cook it with honey, add thyme and salvia and some gin to preserve it and dissolve the etherical oil of the plant.

Once again I came home with quite a loot! Sometimes I am not quite sure if it might be just the hunt;-)

My saddest knife:-(

This is the saddest knife I made, still not mounted after all these years. I just could not stand working on it, because it hurt. Call me a sentimental old fart, but that´s how it is. I forged this one on the very last night in the garden of my old home. It was the darkest night of the year, two days before Chrismas. All our possessings except the forge and shop were already moved, and yes, they drove us out at that time of year... It was cold, and snow fell on my way through the woods (Went there by walking). When I reached the shop, it stopped, and the stars came out. I lit the forge in the darkness, using charcoal I had made myself in the garden. I forged this one with the dirt forge from an old cold chisel. At first, I wanted to make an Athamen, but I let it cool in the ashes. I had some beers too much beside the dying embers, while a piece of my heart died with them. I just sat there, and I knew I would never again be able to be there. Yap, I cried my fill, but the cold, cold stars were there to soothe my searing wound that was to become my heart. Frost came, and it went colder still, and I made for the long and lonely walk home. The blade I left in the dying embers to anneal and for the stars to shine upon it. But another smith came to forge it, and his hammer was older, colder and mightier than mine; frost bit a crack along the middle of that would- be Athamen. I have not yet quite understood the story that this tells, but I want to understand it. I ground one half away in Matthias Zwissler´s smithy, who was so kind to teach me and let me do it. There now is just a tiny hairline crack along the integral side, but runs away from the blade, so I will use it. The wood for the handle lies beside it, and it´s a part from an old rotten 98 K Wehrmachts carbine I found in the lake when the dam was to be repaired. Noone wanted it, so it´s still at my mother´s. It lay forsaken for sixty years, deep in the water. It is a part of a weapon thrown away because peace made its violent way. I like to see it this way. You can see it otherwise, but still there are sixty years of lying submerged in the water, beneath the trees, the wind in the leaves. I see it as a gift of the power I worship, which has so many names and still no name that comes close to it. I will make a bronze buttcap to counterweight the dark walnut wood, and I forged a dragonhead to top it off. But I still have to take my time.