Dremel Down

I burned out another Dremel. Here, the expired power tool lies on the ground like a metal rat.

I was finishing the hilt of a Christmas pine wand when the motor suddenly stuck. Rrrrrrr, it said, but didn't move. I clicked the on/off switch several times. Rrrr. Rrrr. Rrrr. Then the motor popped *POP!* and a wisp of smoke floated by. I smelled the Dremel's electric soul wafting up to the heavens. I tossed it to the ground, and unplugged it.

A Dremel 3000, I bought two years ago, and it enabled the crafting of all the wands you've seen here and many more. Thanks, metal friend. The techno-gnomes who fashioned you await your arrival. Meanwhile, I'll store your fizzled body in the garage, on the concrete, with a wide circle of room in case the motor suddenly combusts.

Harrowen

Harrowen is a 16-inch wand of polished gnarled oak, featuring a 17x24mm carnelian cabochon and a small orange citrine gemstone. The original branch was found near the roots of a tall oak in the shade of a shallow river valley in the Texas Hill Country.

The twisted lowest branches of the oak reached out over a rocks and weeds at its feet, and I found this torn segment as I rushed past. The air was thick and humid as I made my way through a carpet of thick weeds, my eyes open for wand-making material and for snakes.

Further up the valley, following a dry creek bed, the trees gathered closer together, choking out the weeds.

I collected a handful of potential wands from among the thin trucks and wild branches.

An even larger handful of branches were collected during the trip. The torn and gnarled oak branch stood out as the most unusual.

I started working on it soon after arriving home. First step was exhaustive documentation of the oak's strong character.

After a bit of consideration, I trimmed away the dirt, the smaller branches and the top of layer of bark without losing the base shape of the rough branch.

I sanded away the last of the bark and polished the resulting wand until the wood was smooth and ... a little less twisted.

I matched the wand's slight honey color with a deep orange carnelian cabochon large enough to fill the hole left behind by the branch's largest node. The stone fit exactly in the gap. I added a small, 4mm faceted citrine near the tip of the wand, on the opposite side.

Harrowen in one of my favorites. Her twisted shape is well balanced, and the carnelian's energy at the top of the grip adds extra umph to your spellcasting. Carnelian, as a gemstone, is said to enhance physical and creative energies, and paired with the creative nature of the citrine, the wand hums with confidence and vision.

See a couple more pictures of Harrowen at her Etsy listing.

Floodfinger

Wand: Floodfinger

Type: Pecan

Origin: Elder pecan tree on the south corner of the neighborhood

Length: 14.25 inches / 35.5 cm

Temperament: Plucky

Availability: Etsy

Floodfinger is a 14-inch rain wand made from elder pecan with a cabochon of blue-green set in the base of the hilt. The length of the wand is enhanced with 14 deep blue, rainbow and white tiny rhinestones. Handcrafted by Dremel and sandpaper.

I thought the bowl was cute. Then I put Floodfinger in the tree. So dramatic.

The elder pecan tree from which this wand was shaped sits in a line of aging pecan trees at the front of the neighborhood. Planted when the houses were first being built in the area, the trees are now among the oldest, their bark now like silver dragon scales and their limbs gnarled and looming. Wands produced from their wood are associated with rain storms upon their creation and, if properly used, commonly can influence the weather. The trick is that without complete control, you never quite know where the summoned rain is going to fall. It might be near, it might be far. Use with caution.

Floodfinger's pointy nose is highlighted when draped over a set of chimes.

All rainwands produced by Spellbook Not Included are dispensed at a reduced price, to encourage the spread of healthy weather in all regions of the world.

(from Floodfinger's Etsy listing)

This wand is Thrustros

Wand: Thrustros
Type: Cedar
Origin: An open field of scrub grass and crystallized stones
Length: 14.75 inches / 37cm
Temperament: Steady
Availability: Etsy

Thrustros has a curled shaft and a hilt with two distinct sides - one lighter beige with black speckles and the other weathered grey with smooth, deep grooved bark. Two brilliant blue Nacozan turquoise stones are set in the hilt, an almost pure blue cabochon on the grey side and a cabochon with pyrite inclusions that match the speckled side.

The hilt is wider than usual, fitting firmly in the palm for both left- and right-handed casters. As representative of the Sky Father, Thrustros is a battle wand, a quick summoner and an undead bane.

Here in Thrustros its original form. The frayed end (left) was brushed with fire damage. The branch was not found near a campfire, but it could have been carried away from one at any time in its long past. That was a good sign that the wood had been useful to someone, or some thing. The branch was heavy though clearly weathered.

The speckled side was face down in the rich, dry dirt. Usually the dirt side of an old branch is partially rotted away or weakened by the constant contact with the earth, but Thrustros had withstood. While the sun-facing bark was baked into a hard, smooth surface, the speckled side was busy resisting bacterial growth, capturing the destructive enzymes in tiny pockets that now score the surface like battle wounds.

The boundary of the heartwood is directly beneath the thin outer bark, with no sign of sapwood. The honey-blonde heartwood is veined with a wide, thin-line grain that flows lightly along toward the wand's point.

Not shown is the part where I stripped away the outer bark of the upper 8.5 inches, marked a twin-pair of spirals up the shaft and then carved away the inner strip, followed by shaping the tapered slope to the tip. I had started with the two bands that now mark the top of the hilt with the intention of carving down the grip and shaping a nice ring near the middle of the wand. However, I changed my mind once the curl was complete. The wand needed no further shaping.

The styling of the wand reminded me of native dagger, with a sturdy hilt and a pointed blade used to hunt in the wild and alternatively as a sacred tool in meditation and religious ceremonies. When I encountered the two Nacozan cabochons, I understood that they were intended for Thrustros.

After penciling in the position of the stone on both sides of the hilt, I used a small grinding bit to cut the first setting. I use this bit a lot, and it beginning to look fairly worn. The edges have softened too much, and I often have to use a similar bit with a flared bottom to trim the inside of a setting's curve. I guess I continue to use this bit because it's been good to me and my wands. (the blurred seed in the background is from a Queen's Wreath ivy that has overtaken my back porch)

The turquoise with the inclusions set perfectly into the wood. I almost couldn't get it out after testing the final shape. It didn't actually come out until long after I'd finished both settings.

once the first turquoise was set, I needed to readjust where the second setting would be cut. I only had one chance to get it right without ruining the handle, and the penciled-in circle was not matching where the first stone was now set. First, I looped two small strings around the hilt to study where the new lines should be drawn, as the length of the hilt has the slightest curve.

I also used a ruler to measure the distance between the lower ring at the top of the hilt and top and bottom of the set stone.

Between the strings and those measurements, I was able to cut the second circle in the exact spot.

Thurstros, one sideup.

Thrustros, the other side down. The curve of the wand makes it ideal for either hand, left or right, or held with the tip upward or downward. It's well balanced in any combination.

The following photos are much more dramatic, and also used on Thrustros' Etsy listing.

Lush Tannamar

Lush Tannamar started as half of an old branch of cedar laying in the hot sun in the Texas Hill Country. I had located the branch just a few weeks prior during a summer vacation -- or "wand hunting spree," as I like to call it. I regret not taking a picture of the full piece before I cut it two but since I did not, here's a photo of the two pieces, fresh from the sawing.

Don't worry. The parts wanted to be separated. (The full piece was almost 33 inches, too long to be a single wand) Despite the grayed exterior bark, the interior is a healthy honey-blonde hardwood.

The ends are in less good shape, but not completely cracked. Often the two or three inches of a found branch will be split nearly in two, and sometimes only discovered during the shaping process. In this case, I chose to work with the half that the end that was more intact, on the left in this photo:

The end wood is a bit feathered but there's no cracking so I decide to keep that part of the branch in its original form ... or, at least as much of it as possible. As seen here, the end is nearly two inchese thick. It will need to be trimmed down to fit comfortably in the palm of its wielder's hand. In fact, the entire half branch was at least an inch and a half thick, heavy, thick and very close to straight. I worked through various designs until I found one I liked the most:

While the final shape stands out on its own, I wanted to add at least one enhancement to fill the small knot just above the top of the spiral. A 10 mm round amethyst cabochon was the detail that brought Lush Tannamar to life. I'd purchased the gem in the Spring from a traveling show, and the pair were (was?) a perfect fit.

Here's the closer look at the final form of the feathered wood at her base:

She's sharp and brilliant, a protector, a fighter and a guide even when all else is turbulence and harm.

Available on Etsy.

Ghostcaller

This morning, when I woke, a heavy fog had settled over the town. I knew I needed to finished the wand of holly before the night was full, if it was going to be of any service to the visiting ghosts, or visiting humans.

The following montage is a brief review of the process.

First, cutting a 16" length from the base of the holly branch.

The lowest portion of the branch had more curve than I wanted, so I cut the lowest 12 inches for a second wand, on a later day. Then I fastened the shorter piece to the remaining branch and returned the leafy branch to storage.

After sketching a quick design, I cut the main lines with the Dremel -- two near the base to help form a spherical shape at the end of the hilt, one that indicated the top of the hilt, and a last cut further up the shaft.

I carved the round feature at the base of the hilt.

Just this small bit of work gave me a feel for how to work the wood. It was soft and shaved away easily under the ministrations of the sanding bit.

Then I kept going, forming the shallow curve of the grip up to the line at the top of the hilt, and then started immediately on the shaft. I made it about halfway before taking a break.

I can already tell the shaft is going to have a slight curve. I try to minimize the bend as I work toward the tip. By the time the first cut of the shaft is complete, I'm pleased with the general shape of the wand.

Attack with sandpaper. 100 grit. 120 grit. 180 grit. 220 grit!

The holly performs just as the literature (internet) said it would -- the white grain is practically invisible, and smooth as glass. Since ghosts are said to return on Halloween nee Samhain to wreak vengeance, this wand yields the wielder invisible to their otherworldly sight.

Unfortunately, the attack of the sandpaper has wiped out half of the original lines at the top and bottom of the hilt. The line I cut further up the shaft was overwritten by the shaping of the shaft itself. I choose not to put it back in place. For the lines at the hilt, though, I used a special Dremel attachment:

I don't actually know what this bit is called, but it worked excellently. I cut the lines a little deeper than before, because I still have some shaping to do.

The next step is to refine the shape of the shaft. It's too thick near the hilt, and there's a bend that looks like a crook between joints of a finger where the thicker portion meets the thinner length near the tip. And the grip is too meaty. And the round feature at the base is unappealing.

I spend about an hour roughing up the shaft's surface with the sanding bit and then using the sandpaper to shape it down until the entire shaft is one long taper. Then I rough up the grip and sand that down in the same manner. For the rounded feature, I trim it slightly at the very end and then reduce its width to match the newly shaped grip.

Once the wand was complete, it was time to cut the setting for a cabochon of black star diopside.

I drew a circular line around the very bottom of the hilt to mark the boundary for the stone. I used a small bit to carefully form the initial round shape.

I worried over the shape of the setting for another 45 minutes, cutting it slightly deeper and wider until was a perfect fit.

Next step was to apply a coat of tung oil.

The sun was nearing the horizon. I painted the white wand with the oil and then hung it between two hoops of string tied on the opposite corner of my work table.

About four hours later, in the full dark of night, I brought the wand inside to finish it's drying.

When I arrived home late on the afternoon of Halloween, the tung oil was dried. I used superfine steel wool to buff away the splotchy topcoat. The resulting finish was a slight golden tint.

With about thirty minutes left until the sun set, I added the star diopside to the base of the wand. Soon after, the doorbell started to ring. Guests had arrived.

Ghostcaller is ready to receive spirits.