Back in February I got an irresistible offer from Tidewater
Workshop, the manufacturer of Atlantic white cedar garden furniture: their basic
four foot bench was being offered for a price that was hard to resist. The ad
mentioned that there might be a delay in delivery. I placed an order for two
benches, and a few days later the charge appeared on my credit card bill.
This has been such an eventful year in our household that I
hardly noticed as the weeks passed. Soon, it had become a matter of months
passing. Concerned, I tried to contact the company. Many repeated phone calls
brought only a recorded message. Messages left went unanswered. An attempt at
email resulted in a bounced message. At this point I began to be concerned,
concerned not just for my money but also for the health of this company which
produces a unique product. The economic downturn has hurt so many small
companies which deal in horticultural and garden related products; many
nurseries and mail order companies have either shut down for good or have
reorganized, sometimes beyond recognition. Was Tidewater about to be swallowed
up in the decline?
Yesterday my sister came over to give me some time to get
out and get some fresh air. Before leaving the house, we sat around and talked
for a while, mostly of the ebb and flow of family matters. At a lull in the
conversation, I mentioned the bench saga; the most recent episode of that story
being the results of a Google search on the company’s name. It quickly became apparent that I was not the
only one waiting for benches. It sure seemed that Tidewater had tanked, and
that I would never see my benches or my money.
What happened next would have been considered an improbable deus ex machina maneuver in a play or
novel, but this time it was real life. I got my things together to leave the
house, got into the car, slowly began to back out, and noticed a small,
nondescript pickup truck approaching. I pulled back into the driveway to allow
it to pass; as it got closer, I got a look at what was in the bed of the truck.
It was the color of the wood which
caught my eye first: the truck was hauling something made of recently cut conifer wood. As the truck slowly pulled
by me, I could see that the somethings were benches. I didn’t recognize the
driver or the truck, but it sure looked as if one of the neighbors had been out
shopping for garden benches. And then the truck slowed down, turned around and
parked next door. By this time I had already started to pull out of the driveway,
but my mind was racing and something deep in my consciousness kept saying,
unlikely as it seemed, “don’t go, don’t
go, those might be your benches”.
I got out of the car and walked over to the truck. I didn’t
see anything on the truck to suggest that it was from Tidewater, but as the
driver got out I called out in a questioning tone “Tidewater?” The driver, Peter, gave me a big smile and
began unloading benches. There was an
older man with him: Peter introduced him as his dad. Why, I wanted to know,
wasn’t dad at home sitting in the shade instead of unloading benches from a
truck?
I couldn’t believe it: only twenty minutes before I had been
telling my sister the sad tale of the benches. Now, totally unexpected, here
they were. I was happy, I was a little confused: this sort of surprise was so
much more exciting than the anonymous drop off from one of the major delivery
companies. And Peter turned out to be so affable and upbeat. I told him about my problems contacting the
company, about my concerns that it might not still be a going concern; he gave
me a quick rundown of the reorganization efforts his company is making as they
respond to new markets and new ways of doing business in the age of the
internet. They are a thriving company and have plenty of orders to keep them
busy. All the while we were moving the benches to our lawn, Peter was giving
some bench care instructions: he cautioned me that my intended use, to use the
benches indoors by the fireplace in the basement, might result in the wood drying
too quickly and eventually developing small splits. He suggested taking some
sandpaper to the rough edges, and painting or coating the benches. He kept
referring to the wood as cypress, Maine cypress I thought I heard him say, and
just as I began to wonder if he knew his woods, he mentioned “but it’s all Chamaecyparis thyoides”. Bull’s-eye: for
those of you not into dendrology, that’s Atlantic white cedar.
By now my sister had joined us, and Peter gave us a good
laugh when he said he didn’t have any trouble deciding which house should get the delivery : it's always the one overflowing with plants, obviously.
The change I like best is their delivery system: it was
great to be able to meet Peter and share his enthusiasm for his company and
what they are doing.
Now I’m off to make some biscuits to put into the little
tray provided, gratis, with the
benches.
I like happy endings!
You can see Tidewater’s current offerings here:
2 comments:
So is that an agave in the pot by the bench?
It's the plant known as × Mangave 'Macho Mocho'.
If you take Agave and Manfreda to be congeneric, then yes, it's an Agave.
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