Some years ago, we spotted an old bench broken in half along its length and in the trash. It was a few doors down the alley from our studio in Boulder, Colorado. Too big for the trash collectors, it seemed to call out to us as we drove by it dozens of times over several weeks. One day we responded, “Let’s get that bench and fix it up.” And so we did: glued it back together with Gorilla glue and roughly sanded it down. A sturdy bench is always handy. The bench moved with us to Mountain Water where it has a welcoming spot in the entryway mudroom. It could use a bit more sanding, but we’ve resisted the impulse to pretty it up with paint.
Recently, we thought to make a few more of those benches. The first replica used discarded and salvaged lumber to echo the world-weary but welcoming look of the original. All went well until we gave it a few coats of varnish. Even though the dimensions of the original were carefully followed, the gloss of varnish gave it a false look. Though it’s a good, solid bench, it lacks the rough authenticity of its forebear.
This third bench is in progress. As with the previous one, the lumber is from a pile of discarded and very weathered boards abandoned at a nearby ranch. We’re attentive to finishing this one in a way that will show it as it is without pretending to needless glamor.
How to revive a bench is something of a metaphor for how we discovered Mountain Water—a piece of land we drove by hundreds of times, a piece of land overgrazed, neglected, and ignored by its out of state owner. As it turns out, the place has its own qualities to learn and respect. It doesn’t need to be varnished or made to look like anything but what it is, which happens to be dramatically beautiful and accommodating enough. You might say that the land is teaching us to make a simple bench that makes no apologies for itself. Come, have a seat and see for yourself.