Wood floor pro or poet? What not both? While waiting for a trim coat to dry, longtime wood floor pro Lenny Hall of Endurance Floor Company in West Park, Fla., was struck by the seasonal creative spirit, and he created this poem for the season:
’Twas the Night Before Floor Work
’Twas the night before installing, and all through my van,
The tools were all ready, each trowel, clamp, and cam.
The planks lay in bundles, stacked sturdy with care,
In hopes that its installer soon would be there.
I was resting, quite snug in my bed
With visions of wood grains danced in my head.
Maple and cherry, their hues rich and deep,
Promised a floor design to make hearts leap.
When out on the site there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my dream to see what was the matter.
Away I drove as if powered by rockets,
Wearing my Snickers with all those cool pockets!
The moon cast its light on the new OSB,
Whose surface I made clean and flat as can be.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a master craftsman with tools held so dear.
You know, he looked so a pro with his DeWalt tool holder
As he carried a bundle of wood over his shoulder.
He had trammels, and calipers, a rabbet plane too!
Plus sharp chisels to part boards in two!
He was dressed all in NWFA gear, from cap to his boots,
Totally adorned for his flooring pursuits.
With his craftsman style and skill in his hands,
I knew in a moment this must be his plan.
With precision and accuracy, to life his design came,
Whilst he shouted, calling the woods by their name:
“On walnut! On hickory! On quartered white oak!
On ash, on cherry, and you too, rift red oak!
To the edge of the baseboard, to the top of the stair,
Straight away! Straight away! I’ll install you with care!”
The sanding began next with his big machine
Using dust containment with hoses to leave the place clean.
As too, was the buffer, all hooked up
Leaving little chance of a big dust clean up.
The edges were detailed and corners were flat
He vacuumed and tacked, moving this way and that.
He then tampico-ed away, cleaning the grain
So that the floor finish smooth and slick would remain.
Now his finish in hand and roller at the ready
He began the coat, true and steady.
So up through the finish the grain pattern would glow,
With the warmth of the floor like a hearth’s gentle show.
In the end he flung the trash bag over his shoulder
Like it was nothing, despite him being older.
His eyes, how they twinkled, his smile was so merry!
His work brought out wood tones, so rich and varied.
The smoothness he left was just like a glass table
A true hardwood craftsman, the stuff of a fable.
He spoke not a word but walked in a long stride,
He winked my way, nodding in pride.
He sprang to his van, and to me gave a whistle,
And away he drove like the wind through a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“Happy flooring to all, and to all a good night!”
