From Childhood Dream to Olive Grove: The Evolution of a Workshop
A workshop is like a living thing—it grows, adapts, and evolves with its maker. While you can buy a car and customize it, a workshop is something more personal, more organic. It's a complex system that you can't simply purchase off the shelf. You might acquire tools and machinery, but the workshop itself? That's something you create, arrange, and constantly reshape to serve your unique needs.
There is no such thing as the ultimate workshop, just as there is no perfect garden or perfect home. Instead, there's a continuous process of growth and adaptation as your skills expand and your projects evolve.
My own journey with workshops started like many others—with a childhood dream. At age 10, I received a wooden workshop case with basic tools, my first taste of having a dedicated space for making things. That wooden case, remarkably, still has a place in my workshop today, though it's become more of a catch-all for odds and ends—those small pieces that never seem to find their proper home. The small hammer from that original set, however, has found its clear purpose; it sits in a shelf alongside its larger cousins, still called upon when gentle persuasion is needed. While the saw and other tools from that first kit have long since disappeared into memory, this little hammer endures, a physical reminder of where it all began, still contributing to the daily work in TinyTaller.
Through my teenage years, a simple drill was my only power tool. In my early twenties, I expanded my arsenal modestly: a jig saw, a sander, and a battery-powered drill joined the family.
This minimal setup became my proving ground. With just these basic tools, I built beds, shelves, tables, and garden furniture. Despite the limited equipment, I found joy in the process. What I lacked was a dedicated space—a real workshop remained a distant dream.
Decades passed before life took an unexpected turn. My family and I found ourselves on a generous piece of land in Spain, having traded city life for something more grounded. What began as a practical solution—a 20-foot shipping container for storage—transformed into something more meaningful. The container, still partially storing family belongings, became my TinyTaller.
But this isn't just about building a workshop. Here in Spain, surrounded by olive, almond, and avocado trees, I discovered a deeper connection to the craft. These trees, which need regular trimming, offered an opportunity to complete the full life cycle of wood: from trimming branches, to splitting, jointing and planing the wood, to creating something beautiful and useful—whether it's a cutting board, a decorative box, or a chess table.
TinyTaller wasn't born from a business plan or a strategic vision. It grew from that same childhood dream that started with a simple tool kit, nurtured by decades of making do with what I had, and finally taking root in Spanish soil among the olive trees. Sometimes when I'm working, I catch a glimpse of that old wooden case and this small hammer, and I'm reminded of how far this journey has taken me—from a child's first toolkit to a workshop nestled among olive trees. While I may not have a concrete roadmap for TinyTaller's future, I have something better: the freedom to let it evolve naturally, guided by the rhythms of the trees around me and the projects they inspire.