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This wine cellar door was commissioned by Dillard-Jones Custom Home Builders. It is one of the hilights of their "Southern Living Home," which will be showcased in the Southern Living Tour in a couple of weeks. This door is almost sure to be a real show-stopper.
The design was a creation of the artistic mind of my nephew, James Moseley.
And here's a close-up of the plaque which I carved on the CNC router.
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Here are a few samples of some of the things that I've done on the CNC machine lately.
Here's a 3-D carving of the company logo.
And here's how it looks after carving it into a fireplace mantle.
And here's a door surround. All of the visible components were also carved on the CNC.
And here's a plaque I carved for my family's reunion.
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More to come later...
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The Lord once told a parable
About a man who sowed.
And as he tossed the seed about,
Some fell upon the road.
It languished there amidst the way
So often walked upon,
Until the birds swooped down and dined,
And then the seed was gone.
Some seed fell on a stony place
Where there was little soil.
It sprang right up with shallow root
And soon began to spoil.
For when the sun commenced to warm
The earth with burning ray,
It scorched the seed which had no depth,
And withered it away.
Still other seed then came to rest
Where thorns and thistles reigned.
And there the seed was choked until
No sign of it remained.
But some seed fell on fertile ground
Where it produced great yield.
It bore up to one hundredfold
There in the fruitful field.
Now at the sower’s side we toil
To plow the hardened ground.
We pull the thorns and move the rocks
Until good soil is found.
Then as we cultivate the field
And work the land each day,
We’ll see the hearts of men transformed
To soil from worthless clay.
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Copyright © 2008 by Jon Gardner
All rights reserved
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The Lord moves mountains when we need;
Our faith no greater than a seed.
But when I turned to God and prayed,
He gave me just a pick and spade.
I humbly prayed for daily bread
But God gave me a stone instead.
I asked the Lord for food to eat,
But I received a bag of wheat.
In loneliness I longed for love.
I sought a friend from God above.
As if to then compound my loss,
The one God sent died on a cross.
When will my miracle come?
When will the waves part for me?
When will my joy begin?
When will I laugh again?
When will my miracle come?
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Copyright © 2008 by Jon Gardner
All rights reserved
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SC Highway 14
Most every morning when I rise,
I rub the sleep from heavy eyes.
I take a shower, and when I’m clean
I head down old Highway 14.
I thought I’d tell my daily story.
It’s really just an inventory
Of all the things that I have seen
While driving old Highway 14.
The road itself is just two lanes
'Long where the Tyger River drains.
My windshield frames a rural scene
As I drive down Highway 14.
The winding road is lined with trees
Which wave their welcome in the breeze.
I’ve never seen a place more green -
Or pleasant than Highway 14.
Now as I drive to work each day
I pass two ponds along the way,
And four church buildings in between,
Driving down Highway 14.
You might think this is my commute,
But that’s a fact that I dispute.
This drive will never be routine –
Not driving down Highway 14.
I pass by several trailer houses
With clotheslines waving pants and blouses.
The folks are poor, but proud and clean
Up and down Highway 14.
You’ll see a Rebel flag or two
We’re still at war in some folks’ view.
They may be rough, but they’re not mean –
The folks along Highway 14.
And there’s a towering red brick wall -
A house with pillars white and tall.
Like pictures in a magazine,
You’ll see them on Highway 14.
You’ll see a lot of mopeds poking
Down the road with driver smoking.
I guess it saves on gasoline
To putter down Highway 14.
I often find myself just lookin’
For places servin’ Southern cookin’
They’ve never heard of Lean Cuisine
‘Round about Highway 14.
Now when I’ve reached my journey’s end
I’ll take the time to stop and spend
A moment in the calm serene
I find along Highway 14.
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