My Story

I was raised in an environment wholly immersed in work. The property on which I grew up was, and is still to this day, infused with a waning assemblage of garages, sheds, and miscellaneous outbuildings in which work perpetually resides. Each of them continue to deceive the senses, as if to cast the appearance of a living and breathing entity, powered from its core by way of saws, lathes, or a multitude of other means in which conception comes to life.

Spanning back through several generations, both sides of my family tree are marinated in a history rich in ranching, farming, and construction . In the early 1950s, my father’s parents built their home in a small Northern Nevada farming community, and later erected a shop behind the house utilizing salvaged timber from a bridge which was torn down elsewhere in the valley. From this property my grandfather operated an Allis Chalmers dealership and performed the mechanical work on the tractors from his shop. He also ran the Central Garage shop and gas station in town, and played key roles in starting both the areas first fire department and the first airport, which was located several miles up the road. When necessary, he would pilot the airplanes down the highway to the auto shop, perform mechanical repairs, and drive them back to the airport. And so as to not become lethargic, he and my grandmother were both EMTs and drove the local ambulance, as well as operated a 60 acre cattle ranch.

My mother’s parents also built their own home in the late 1960s just outside of Reno. At the time, they rented a separate piece of property and constructed both a 1,200 sf hay barn as well as a full shop, of which they in turn not only ran a hardware store out of but also used to sell lumber and building supplies. They specialized in building wooden slabs for mobile homes which were common at the time, and sold broad panels of pecky cedar fencing. Some of this material was utilized to cover the exterior walls of the shop and for the fences on the property, all of which still stand today. Some years later, they moved to Washington state and operated an apple orchard which included another onsite woodshop used for the milling and sale of lumber.

My mother and father had both grown up surrounded by arduous work, and my father had also attended a Technical Institute specializing in mechanics. They later purchased the property which held the hardware store, and in turn moved into the small home onsite which had been built in the early 1940s. Upon starting a family, they added an addition to the house nearly doubling its size, of course performing the work themselves. They each possess an immensely remarkable skill set pertaining to the construction and maintenance of all things related to ones home, property, vehicles, or remaining accouterments. Thus far, in my forty three years of admiring their abilities, I have yet to encounter a single item that they were unable to either build or mend. During those instances in which a part for something was unable to be located, my dad would simply head to a lathe or a welder and create a suitable replacement himself, of which was undoubtedly of higher quality than what would have been found elsewhere in the first place. Now in their seventies, they still heat their home with wood, do their own vehicle maintenance, and refuse assistance in looking after their two acres. The work does not stop, nor do they.

Which I suppose is where my story begins. I was raised on that same piece of property on which my parents still reside today. I have never moved away from the area and can comfortably assume that it will always be my home. In high school I took a liking to classes based on architectural drafting, and subsequently earned a college degree in Construction Drafting and Design. At the age of nineteen, I got hired on as a draftsman at a construction firm, which ultimately commenced what would become a twenty two year employment in the construction industry. During that time, and over the course of various companies due to buy outs and closures, I became more involved on the estimating side and spent my final years as Lead Estimator in charge of the department.

I’ve always carried a heavy interest in working on cars and building things by hand, and have never much allowed myself to be without a project to work on of some form. While I both enjoyed and respected the work that I was doing in my career, I grew more reluctant at the idea of sitting idle in an office and would often find myself wondering what affect a profession in which I worked with my hands would have on my daily life. But the quiet amenities of a paycheck and of consistent work hindered me from ever sincerely looking at it as a prudent option. In 2019, however, with the allure of the concept becoming progressively robust, an acute realization set in that if I were to ever veritably entertain the idea then it was time. So, backed by an immeasurable amount of support from my wife and family, at 41 years of age, I left the only job that I had ever known. I spent that summer with my family trying to do the things that we’d always found ourselves too busy to do, and upon its culmination began the inspiring groundwork for what would become Timber Ridge Woodworks. In the time since, I have learned many lessons regarding budgeting, time management, and starting a business. But they have been welcome in the sense that they are encouraging me in what I ought be tomorrow.

In short, I think the point is that I came about inundated by the sight and sound of things coming to fruition by way of hard work.

I cannot say that I have a resolute work ethic in my blood, what with not being certain that a persons DNA is able to carry such an admirable trait. But, I earnestly believe that being immersed in it for the last four decades inadvertently fabricated a sincere desire to work with my hands. One which eventually became so tenacious that I was finally no longer able to ignore it.

I certainly never intended on being a woodworker. If we’re being honest, I’m not yet entirely certain that I’m able to call myself one still. Though I will assuredly strive to get there, with an end goal of not only consistently producing items that the customer is pleased with, but with hope, of also bringing a semblance of veneration to those callused hands which walked me through so many projects over the years.

-Dan