My failed quest for a hobby

Maybe one day I'll knit sweaters, but I don't know if I'll ever have a hobby

In the shade of a mature tree on the side of his lawn, you’ll often see Earl, a man who lives on my street, whittling a piece of wood from his stately Muskoka chair, shaping and carving it to an artifact.

I’ve seen the bins in his garage with different sizes and shapes of untouched wood—sticks, branches, blocks—that will one day be shaped.

Earl has a hobb…