Serious Hunks of Black Walnut Meet the Planer

Roughly 25 years ago, I came into possession of a cache of black walnut, thanks to a sharp-eyed reader who took note of a column announcing that I had taken up building furniture as the latest hobby. Golf no longer held its allure, though I lived on a golf course. I realized, after a decade of playing or practicing several times a week, that I was unlikely to get any better at that accursed game. My handicap was a highly dubious 12, meaning on average I shot in the mid-80s, with help from foot wedges and a nimble scorecard pencil. I possessed no natural talent and was spending about 20 hours...

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