Collaborating on an Arts and Crafts Coffee Table - Concept and Design

Drawing from a number of sources, I built this model to get us started.

I have a friend who has some woodworking experience and is interested in building his first serious piece of furniture.  Given that what we do is a pretty solitary business, I jumped at the chance to help him design and build a mission-style coffee table for his home. Working side-by-side, over the course of several days, the plan is to complete the piece and build a few skills along the way.

I've put a decent amount of thought into this, and it seems that I need to keep three questions in mind - questions that may be slightly different than I work alone:

How do I make the experience interesting?
Every project has its share of mind-numbing repetitive tasks.  I'm cool with that, but is he ready for the fatigue that sets in during the twelfth half-lap joint or during the long process of trimming a tenon with a router plane?  In conversation I tend to fill the empty space with blather, if I do that over the course of ten hours I'll be exhausted.  Plus, how do I avoid pushing a bunch of useless busy work off on him?

I suspect that the answer to all of these questions is to think through every step, anticipate most hang-ups, and create a task-by-task work plan that encompasses the entire project from start to finish.  This is not my usual approach - even when we went to get the stock I was just working off the model with a vague sense of what we need (about twelve board feet of 5/4 quartersawn white oak, enough 8/4 flatsawn white oak to make the legs, and something like one twelve ft long, eight inch wide board of 5/4 flatsawn oak.)  Teaching, even in this very informal way, takes much more organization than doing.

I hope this list of tasks will make good use of our time.

How do I ensure that the piece lives up to our shared expectations?
When we discussed the table, I Googled  "arts and crafts coffee table image" and asked him to pick his favorites.  A search like this runs the gamut from classic pieces to awkward knock-offs.  He picked a couple photos and I drilled a little deeper with open questions like "What do you like about these tables?" and more focused requests such as "So you really want drawers and a shelf below?"  The image that he really liked was a bit awkward and I told him I'd give it some thought.

This is where it gets tricky.

My part of the "shared expectation" is that I want to build furniture that has good lines as well as sound, attractive construction.  I figured that I should spend a few hours building a model that met his technical requests and improved upon the design he selected.  I was pleased that once he took a look at the altered design (replacing the heavy board on the bottom with lattice-work and adding breadboard ends with walnut handles and accents) he liked it better than his first choice.  Sometimes I have to be reminded that customers are generally pretty open-minded and they trust you to bring your own ideas into play

How do I keep us both safe?
Banging on about safety is boring and condescending - but it has to be thought about.  If you work in a shop your level of caution automatically adjusts to the potential danger (turned up to 11 around the table saw, slightly less at the jointer, even less at the drill press.)  But if this unfamiliar ground, you have no idea about the many ways you can injure yourself in the shop.  I think we will start with an adult conversation about what he feels comfortable doing, a rundown on the dangers associated with each tool, and how I will supervise until we are both comfortable.  Most important, we will have an absolute rule that he will stop if it doesn't feel right. 

I think he will work with hand tools for the most part.  They come with their own set of risks but they are usually more rewarding.  And since there will be some machines involved, this gives me an opportunity to take a hard look at my jigs and templates to make sure that they are both safe and sturdy.

This will be a fun project and a chance to share time with a good friend who is enthusiastic about woodworking.  I'll post an update in a couple of weeks, and later this week I'll begin a contemporary ash bench with sculpted edges.

Building a Lutyens Garden Bench -- Assembly and Completion

This bench has sat around the shop, half-completed, for more than a year now.  I guess there is something to be said about deadlines driving results and how you can lose inspiration in the middle of a long job.  I also think the fact that it is a project built from purchased plans takes away some of the joy.  I mean, you just read the instructions and you are home free, right?

Not quite.

The art nouveau lines, as elegant as they are, often point to less-than-elegant construction techniques. All those curvy bits have to be joined together and there is no way around some less-than-stable short grain appendages.  That being said, the designer did the best he could with what ends up being a very nice piece.

I departed from Taunton's plans in a couple of ways:

First, once I had the skeleton of the structure built I ignored the plans and worked off story sticks and my own actual measurements.  This is sort of a given on all custom furniture, but it is easy to forget when you get in paint by number mode.  Plus, nearly every set of plans I've worked with have at least one error and this was no exception.  To their credit, I seem to remember Taunton sending out an email correcting the errors in the plan.

Second, I replaced some of the tedious double dowelled tenons on the intricate back with more integrated domino joints.  It feels more secure and it has little effect on the glue-up choreography.  As with all domino/plate joiner work the most important thing to keep in mind is not "Is this perfectly centered?, but "Am I referencing the same faces when I use the tool.  I referenced the bottom (using the bottom plate on the mft table to cut the rails; placing a stop to match the bottom of that rail on the stile.) and the front of the piece using one of the stops on the domino face.  With a little concentration it went quickly.

The glue-up is complicated and you may want a patient assistant to ease the pain.  I used slow-setting epoxy for most of the large joints and dominoes but Titebond III for the dowels.  It was just easier to squirt glue into the round holes than coax the gooey epoxy into such a small space.  What can you say about a fancy glue-up?  As long as your marriage survives, and you arrive at the end with an assembled piece of furniture, it is best forgotten.

I used stainless steel screws, countersunk and topped by oak dowels to secure the seat slats and it will get several coats of Epiphanes Marine Varnish before it goes out in the Spring.  I hope to knock back the gloss finish with some steel wool to get a less plastic looking finish.

Building A Lutyens Garden Bench -- The Base Comes Together

So far, the most difficult part of the project has been the sheer size and weight of the stock.  Here in Chester County, PA I have ready access to 8 inch wide, 12 foot long, 8/4 white oak.  But hauling it around the shop, cutting it to the proper dimensions, and surfacing it becomes a big issue.  In order to save my back I cut each piece to +/- 6 inches (to allow for snipe) of its final length.  I don't even think about using the table saw to cut to width because of the extreme internal movement of flat-sawn white oak.  In fact, it wants to twist so much during sawing that even the band saw is out of the question.  Out comes the rip saw and wedges, and once chilly shop seems a bit steamy.

I cut this about 1/4" oversize, let it sit for a couple of days and pass one edge and one face on the jointer, then use the thickness planer to reach my final width and thickness.

The Back Legs
The most complicated element of the base is the back leg segment.  In order to achieve the necessary heft, you must face glue two, 3 1/2" by 2" pieces of stock and band saw out the rough profile.  I entertained notions of using two pieces of stock and fashioning some fancy scarf joint, but this bout of insanity passed and I went with the most straight-forward approach.  The key is position your template so that you hide the glue line on the lower half of the leg.

 

 I trace the template and rough cut each leg on the band saw.  Outside faces are smoothed easily with a hand plane.

The inside faces are worked first with the hand plane, then a spoke shave, then a quick pass on the spindle sander at the interior angle.  Once the two pieces match I use the template to cut them to length with each end sporting the proper angle.

Rails and Stiles
Like it or not, the next part of the project enters into the realm of chair making -- and I always find this both fascinating and slightly complicated.  I like making chairs, and it is not really difficult if you can keep all of the angles straight in your head and remain mindful of the forces at work.  While I won't attempt to give a step-by-step tutorial, it is easy to keep some general notions in mind:

Looking at a side view, all rails join the front leg at a 90 degree angle.  They join the angled back leg at matching obtuse/acute angles depending on whether they meet above or below the back leg bend.

The dry fit looks good, the gaps are because I have it pulled slightly apart.

Looking at a front view, all rails join at a 90 degree angle (there is no "splay") and follow the lines of the leg to which it connects.  This means that they are 90 degrees to the ground in the front, and angled along the same lines on the back.

Joinery
All joinery is done with loose tenons.  Mortices that are on the faces of boards are done using the router fence . . .

. . . Or in my ugly-but-useful morticing jig.

End grain mortices can be a bit more challenging.  Short pieces fit in the jig . . .

Long pieces require a bit of a high-wire act, which looks worse than it actually turned out to be . . .

I like to cut one mortice, place it against its mating piece, and then transfer the dimensions of the first mortice.  This ensures that the joint will be properly aligned and that the loose tenon will have a snug fit (oxymoron alert!)

I've also found it useful in these situations ("found it useful" as in made the mistake of not remembering to) cut one piece from the plans, complete a dry-fit, and cut the remaining pieces with a story stick from the semi-assembled piece.  This is important as I am prone to adjust the dimensions from the plans as I go along.  Looking at the side view dry-fit above, I see that the lower side rail will need to be re-cut, as it seems to be about 1/4" shy.  Working with loose tenons makes these kind of mistakes less catastrophic.

The dry-fit, with the curved seat supports in place, shows me that I am on the right track (with one exception.)  Normally, I would think about a sub-assembly at point, but the complicated nature of the seat back joinery makes this impossible.  And we'll tackle this next time.  Cheers!

Building A Lutyens Garden Bench -- Templates and Tricky Bits

A Lutyens Bench peeks out from among the yews at Sissinghurst in Kent

If I were to list the dozen or so pieces of furniture that have stopped me in my tracks over the years, high among that list would be the traditional Lutyens bench.  Named after the architect and frequent Gertrude Jekyll collaborator Edwin Lutyens, the bench brings a rare sense of high Victorian style to outdoor furniture.  His list of architectural credits is immense -- everything from the design for Jekyll's iconic house, Munstead Woods, the redesign of Lindisfarne Castle, and the complete city plan for New Delhi.

But among American gardeners and furniture-makers, we are most familiar with his eponymous bench.  To me, the style seems to combine the ordered design of Thomas Chippendale's Chinese furniture with the arts and crafts cloud lifts of Greene and Greene.  The challenges to building the piece are that it works best on a large scale, and that the construction process is fairly complicated -- requiring nearly every tool in my shop and taxing every muscle in my body.

Right from the start I made two decisions.  As my head was wrapped around an original design that I was building, and I wanted to nail the curves without too much frustration, I purchased ready-made plans for this particular project.  Available though Taunton Press, these plans turned out to be $20.00 well spent.  Printed on thick glossy paper, with accurate dimensions, this is a great jumping off point.  In addition, I decided to build the bench in white oak.  The white oak is, in many ways a compromise, but teak was out of the question, and 8/4 cedar and cypress were not readily available.  Research on finishes, and the advice of some artisans I trust, has led me to believe that I can make the oak viable over a twenty-year life.

Building the Templates
Taunton's plans include full-scale drawings of the most difficult components.  I traced these onto a sheet of my over sized printer paper, and made plywood templates of the crest rail, front legs, rear legs, and seat rails.  In order to get a perfect circle on the top of the front rail, (the lollipop) I drilled a hole in the center and cut a 3" radius circle on the circle-cutting jig at the bandsaw.  In fact, if you can keep this set-up intact, this will be the best way to cut the actual legs.

For the angled rear legs, I cut a single 11/2" plywood strip, then cut it into two pieces in a modified scarf joint, that gave me the proper angle.  As I've done in the past, I achieve straight lines by hot-gluing a thin 1/16" strip along any plywood edges that I have to cut freehand.

This design lives or dies by your ability to replicate the signature crest rail.  I set aside an entire afternoon to creating this template.  I started at the bandsaw and finished at my bargain-basement Grizzly portable spindle sander.  As you can see, I left the template long so that I can start and end my router passes without encountering end grain.

Cutting The Crest Rail and Front Legs
Once the crest rail template is complete, I trace the image on the 8" wide 8/4 oak stock.  To ease the transition through the tight curves I drill 1" holes right to the line.

I cut very close to the line on the tight exterior curves in an attempt to minimize catastrophic tear-out at the router table.  Plan B was to sand and around these difficult bits at the first hint of a blow up, but things went well so I routed the entire piece.

As you can see, there is a trade-off around the speed at which you rout (too fast and you risk tear-out, too slow and it burns.)  I generally opt for too slow as the final sanding removes any burned material.  Through a combination of spokeshaving, hand-sanding, and spindle sanding, I come up with a final surface.

In order to achieve a snug fit with its mirror image, I use a T-square to align the joint perpendicular with the horizontal edge of the crest rail.  This is cut most easily at the miter box.

The front legs are best cut by squaring the inside long edge and then referencing this face on the bandsaw up to the "lollipop."  Then attach the leg to the template on the circle-cutting jig and finish the cut.  This avoids potential end grain disasters.

With the two tricky curved components complete, it's time to focus on the rear legs and the base.  And we'll tackle that in the next post!
 

Contemporary Shaker Style Table -- Completed and Delivered

After an intense bout of machine time on the Hammer Beam Tables, I was looking forward to completing this Shaker table with a bit more handwork.  I keep a foot in both the machine and hand tool camps -- and I believe that they each require a different but complementary skill set.  The bottom line is that I'll use the technique that best serves the piece.  All that being said, I'd rather be planing than sanding, listening to Bach than listening to Delta.

I rough joint the edges on the jointer and then plane them, side-by-side, with my #8 Bailey to achieve perfect edges for the glue up.

Once the dark wood glue was dry, I scraped the surface and tuned my 4 1/2 hand plane.  My initial idea was to add butterfly keys to the joint between dark and light woods. But after further inspection, I felt that the curl in the maple had enough panache to carry the design on its own.

I also finished this soft-ish wood right off the blade to avoid any sanding that would spread dark walnut dust into the maple pores.  The wood planed quite well, and the high angle frog was up to the task of taming the maple curl.  I do, however, encounter the tell-tale lines of a smoother doing its work without a cambered blade -- or do I?  A quick check with a square tells me that a camber does exist, so what gives?  I take a couple of passes without the blade and find that the pesky still line exists -aha! the fault lies on the body of the plane, and sure enough, I find an almost indiscernible little ding at the back edge.  I guess the recent trip from the benchtop to the hardwood floor left its mark.  Some 600 grit paper does the trick, and the top is ready to finish in very short order.

A good example of a mixed approach is creation of the circular top from the glued-up walnut and curly maple stock.  For me, the idea of cutting this by hand never enters the picture -- I use either the bandsaw or plunge router.  And it is a case of "choose your poison."  The bandsaw, with the appropriate jig, will give you a uniformly rough surface, irrespective of grain.  The plunge router gives a better overall surface, but can be quite rough around the end grain areas.  I go with the plunge router, in its circle-cutting jig, and take light passes in different directions to approach the end grain in the most effective manner.

The top, straight from the router . . .

Now that the circle is free, I smooth the edge with a spokeshave.  The mouth is quite closed and I take a very thin shavings of chocolate and vanilla wood.  The best surface comes when you find ways to work "downhill" with the grain and skew the tool as needed.  I take a few passes with some 400 grit paper and break the edge ever so slightly.

. . . And after the spokeshave

The top is secured to the base with the usual brass bolts into a threaded insert.  I start by routing a 1/4" wide groove about 1/2" through the support (so the bolt can slide with wood movement), and drill a 7/8" hole about 1/2" deep to recess the head.  I invert the table base and mark the underside of the top to accept the hardware.  And just like that, the table is complete.

I used the spokeshave to create an almost propeller-like profile to the base support

I use my go-to finish on pieces like this -- two coats of boiled linseed oil followed by two thin coats of paste wax.  And I'm pretty happy with the result.

The base support runs perpendicular to the grain

I stayed consistent with my idea to keep the table "chunky."  There is no taper to the thickness of the legs and the edge of the table top retains its plain, thick profile.

These tables are always a little mini-woodworking class in one project -- turning, surfacing, multiple board glue-up, sliding dovetails, and finishing all in one go-- very satisfying!

Next up, a three part series of posts about the construction of a massive Lutyens Bench.  Cheers!

The Hammer Beam Low Table . . Finished! (and finished)

 

Out of the shop, the Hammer Beam tables are finished and cooling their heels in my family room.  I built these as a prototype for a motif I'd like to use on several other pieces.  Overall, I'm quite pleased with the end result and I feel that in my own (very) small way I've advanced the cause of arts-and-crafts furniture.

Once the main construction was worked out, all that was left to do was to add a few details, secure the top to the base and complete the finish.  There isn't much ornamentation on this piece, but I added two little refinements.  

 The first is a chamfer on the curved beam to give a nod to the furniture of Edward Barnsley.

The second is a small triangle of exposed dowel joinery that will affix the top support to the base.  I create a template for hand drilling and then drill without the support in place. After removing the template I slide the support in place, level it, and drill through.  The dowels are installed and trimmed.  Once completed, it gives a nice rustic-yet-refined look.

I secure the top to the base by installing threaded barrel inserts into the top and passing matching brass bolts through the support and into these inserts.  My new method for installing this hardware works as well in oak as it does in walnut.  As this is a cross-grain situation, I expand the slot in support piece to accommodate the bolt as it responds to seasonal movement.

I really like the mission oak finish techniques that Jeff Jewitt writes about at his Homestead Finishing site.  He has step-by-step instructions for a variety of finish colors, and all of the products are available from him online.  I chose the "Fayetteville" finish which is a three-step process -- stain the overall color, glaze to bring out the grain, and seal to protect.  The result is an historically accurate look without the perils of ammonia fuming.

Finishes are always tricky to describe (and photograph!)  Jeff's instructions are quite good, and I found the greatest success when I mixed the gel stain (glaze) at a 2:1 ratio with odorless mineral spirits.  This increased open time and helped with the flow.  I then followed it with a paper towel, also soaked in mineral spirits.  This is really something that has to be done by feel, but once the sealer coat was in place, the tables compared favorably with several arts and crafts pieces I picked up in the UK.

What would I change?  I like the segmented construction of the base "T-Bar", but in future I will create the corbels from one block and secure them with slip tenons.  Which has led me to some serious thoughts about a dedicated machine for this purpose.  The more I work with contemporary designs, the more I like this invisible, flexible joinery system.  And this part of construction (basic joinery) is a bit of a grind with a plunge router.  I'm not sure if I want the portability of a Festool Domino, or the cast-iron brute power of a Laguna slot mortiser -- and with my next big project, a Lutyens bench, I see a lot of slip tenons in my future.

But before that, I'll finish up the Contemporary Shaker Table I started last week.  Cheers!

Contemporary Shaker Style Table -- Building a Base

Happy Holidays!

While the second step of the finish on my Hammer-Beam Tables is drying, I'll take the opportunity to post about another recently completed project.  This table is a variation on the Shaker Candle Stand idea with a couple of contemporary updates.  First, it is made primarily from black walnut -- one of my favorite woods to work with hand tools.  Second, the design of the top includes includes a strip of figured maple.  I suppose the unifying element is that all the stock comes directly from my scrap pile.

As I've posted about Shaker tables in the past, I'll review the highlights in two posts.  And remember, I'm always up for questions or discussion about the techniques.

The base begins with a turned column.  I've found that these can be glued up from leftover stock with great success.  If I use Titebond II Dark Wood Glue and try to keep the grain running in the same direction on each piece, I've never been able to see any difference between this and solid stock.  The design is simple, which just about matches my skills at the lathe.  The only hard number that I need to hit is the diameter of the top tenon that will join with the top -- and even this just needs to match a Forstner bit in my collection.  The bottom is turned with a slightly narrower diameter, the length of which matches the top of the leg.  This creates a base ridge that is the stop for the leg as it sits in its sliding dovetail.

Without removing the column from the lathe, I set up my sliding dovetail jig on the lathe bed.  I now mark the stops in the indexing head to allow me to make three cuts, dead center, at 120 degree intervals.  The first step is to create a flat spot upon which the leg will rest.  Structurally, this doesn't matter, but aesthetically it makes for a better join between leg and column.

Through trial and error, I know that I should first cut a 3/8" groove to a depth of 1/2" in a series of passes in these three places.  I follow this with one pass (at a depth of 1/2") with my 5/8" by 14 degree dovetail bit to achieve a perfect sliding dovetail mortise.

When this is complete, remove the column from the lathe and place the dovetail bit in the router table.

I've redesigned, slightly, the shape and size of the cyma-curved leg that is part of the beauty of the Shaker table.  The top is larger on this table than on previous iterations, so I've expanded the spread of each leg and reduced a bit of the bulk from my last design.  I do this by means of a pair of flexible bending sticks.  An initial drawing is made on my plywood template, small blocks are hot glued to the lines at intervals, and then the sticks are clamped to these blocks and manipulated to create fair curves.  I trace this and cut the template close to the lines.  Finally I hot-glue thin (1/16") strips of hardwood to the template edges -- ensuring a fair, bump-free, routing template.  It is important to make this template longer than the actual piece so that you can begin and end your routing without encountering end-grain.

Stock preparation for the legs has a bit of a twist as well.  Once the board is planed to the desired thickness, I cut it into leg-sized lengths with a cut that is at a 30 degree angle.  This allows me to line the tenon up along this cut line and keep the grain running along the long axis.  I trace each leg onto the stock, but I do not cut it to shape yet.  This allows me to machine the tenon at the router table with a wide bearing surface.

As usual, you use a piece of spare sock to dial in the thickness and depth of the sliding dovetail tenon.  This is a very sensitive part of the build -- one or two mm can be the difference between a good fit and firewood.  I like to err on the too-tight side and take a couple of passes with 220 sandpaper to get perfection.  I also strike a line with a cutting gauge along this cut.  At this angle, and with walnut in particular, you will get tear-out unless you take this precaution.

Only now do I take it first to the band saw, and then back to the router table to bring it to final dimension.

I trim the top and bottom of the tenon and round the top portion to match the round mortise of the column.  The actual stop for the mortise is the flat top of the exposed leg above the tenon.  These should be trimmed to the same length, and to the thickness of the base ridge to achieve a good fit.  Now all that is left to do is put together your first trial fit.

 

I'll wrap this up with one more post about fashioning the top and applying the finish, as well as a wrap of the Hammer-Beam Tables.  Cheers

The Hammer Beam Low Table . . . Making Breadboard Ends

We're on the homestretch now, with the table flat, the base built, and the scent of TransTint is in the air.  I really enjoy making breadboard ends -- the process is very tactile and represents everything that is good about hand-made furniture.  As with most joinery, it helps me to start with a known dimension for the "mortise" element and then dial in the fit of the "tenon" element.

The thickness of the top is approx. 7/8" so I'm going to go with a tongue thickness of 3/8".  I will cut this groove, on visual center, on the breadboard end piece that is about 1/16" thicker than the top.  I say visual center as I just eyeball this on the router table.  Inevitably, one cheek is ever-so-slightly thicker than the other and I orient this on top to ensure that I cover the end grain of the table field.  I may be over-cautious in this regard, but coming up too thin on the top is an automatic reboot in the process.  I cut this to a depth of 1/2" on the router table.

Setting this aside, I begin to create the tenons on both ends of the table top.  I make a rough and ready jig that sandwiches the top between two pieces of plywood that creates identical fences on both sides of the board.  I measure back from the edge, with the bit in place so that it will cut a 1 1/8" tenon.  I then make a spacer block of this width that will align the jig to the correct distance from the edge every time.

I measure the width of the cheek on my mortised end piece with digital calipers, reduce it by a few mm, set this as the final depth of the router, and cut to completion in several passes.  I reduce it by that little bit to ensure that the end piece will stand proud of the table top.  With the dual fence in place, I flip the piece and rout the other side to within a few mm of completion.  Checking the actual fit with the end piece, I continue until there is a snug fit.

Now I make my story stick for the tongue. The tongue features three longer tenons that will be 1 1/8" in length -- adding the real stability to what is by nature an awkward cross-grain situation.  These tenons will be pinned with a dowel through the end, and depending on the orientation, the holes for the pins will be widened to allow for wood movement. I lay out the tenons symmetrically so that if it gets accidentally rotated 180 degrees between passes on the router table, the piece will still fit.

 

I mark the tenons and cut them out by hand.  From the tenons I mark the corresponding mortises on the end piece, adding approx. 1/4" on the two outer mortises to allow for seasonal movement.  I then return to the router table and "plunge cut" these mortises against the fence (I'm not detailing this procedure because I'm not sure if it is a good practice -- proceed at your own risk.)  A quick dry-fit lets me know that I am on track.

As you can see, I've cut the end boards slightly thick and overly long to allow for an exact fit.  My next step is to trim these ends, along with about 1/8" from each edge of the table top, to bring to the final dimension.  As my sled isn't large enough for this piece, I friction fit a spacer between the two end boards and run this edge along the table saw fence to the correct size.  Once one side is cut. it can run along the fence to cut its opposite number.

Using my 4 1/2 smoothing plane, complete with high-angle frog, I then plane the top of the end board to match the height of the table top.  I find that if I keep the end board attached to the top, pulled away by about 1/2", I can plane without the risk of making a cross-grain gouge, and monitor the fit with a square.  In practice, I leave the end board just fractionally proud.

 With the edges cut to fit and square, all that is left to do is to pin the end boards to the tenons with dowels in a manner that addresses the cross grain nature of this joint.  I find that a plunge router acts as portable drill press, positioning the hole very accurately and spinning the bit at a speed that discourages tear out.  While it might seem intuitive to use the edge of the end board as a reference for plunging these holes, I've found a method that I like better.  If you create a fence that is attached to the table top, you can drill the holes through the end board and tenons in one go, remove the end board, widen the two holes on the outside by about 3/8", without readjusting the fence.  This gives you a very clean channel for the dowel to ride in during the table top's seasonal journeys.

The best part of this is that you have already built the fence.

I start by marking the dead center of each tenon on my story stick and transferring this line to the end board. Using the jig I created to cut the tongue mortise, as well as the spacer block, I reset the dual fences in their original position relative to the ends of the tenons and clamp them down.  I dry fit the end board in place and add a 1/4" spacer strip to the fence. Why the spacer?

Using the jig without a spacer would place the bit dead center of the 1 1/8" original width.  Experience has taught me that this is too close to the short portion of the joint.  Pushing it out 1/4" places the hole completely in the long tenon portion of tongue.  This is better both functionally and aesthetically.  Now insert a 1/4" spiral bit and plunge through the three marked holes for the dowels.

Remove the end board, and expand the two outside holes to create a channel somewhere in the vicinity of 5/8" wide.  Now, the top is free to expand with the heat and humidity of summer, and contract in the winter dry spell.

The final step is to re-install the end board and peg with the dowels.  I place bit of glue only on the center tenon and reassemble. Using  a cotton swab, I coat the inside of the center hole with glue, dip the peg in glue, and drive it home.  The excess glue will fill any gaps created by slightly out-of-round dowels.  Reaching from underneath, I place a bit of glue in the outside holes, but only deep enough to coat the bottom cheek portion.  I drive a peg 3/4 of the way through, apply glue to the top of the dowel, and drive it home.  My objective is to keep any glue from traveling down to the tongue portion of the joint.  In all fairness, I'm not sure if excess glue would cause a problem, I just want to ensure that the joint will work properly.

After this cures for a few hours, I trim the dowel with a Japanese flush cutting saw, take a few passes with a block plane, and finally make a couple of passes with some 220 grit paper to make sure that I've removed any excess glue and to clean up any "bench rash."  be sure to take care when using the delicate flush-cutting saw on the white oak dowel.  I've read that this saw is not really designed to cut tough American hardwoods, so a light touch is important.

Several times along the way I used my smoothing plane to clean up the surfaces.  In a couple of spots I pulled out the shoulder plane to fine-tune the intersection of the end piece and the table top, and I finished the ends of the end board with a few passes on the shooting board.  All of this is intuitive, and you won't go too far wrong if you go with your gut on these decisions.

This turned into a much longer post than anticipated, and I'm sure that I've left something out.  Please feel free to shoot me a note i if you have any questions or see a better way to approach this most satisfying part of this project.  Cheers.

Next up:  Final construction and a bit of finish.