Smells like fresh sawdust and new beginnings.

Let’s take a ramble tonight — warm up the mental muscles and write a bit. A walk down the gravel to see what puddles I step in. Deep ones if I’m lucky, because it’s been raining here in the land of Knotty. Let’s go back a month. Rewind the clock and sort this out. There’s a story back there somewhere. Anyway, that’s enough warm‑up for tonight. The muscle is primed.

It was a day like any other — so ordinary I couldn’t pin a date to it if I tried. The days blend together like boards in a stack. But something had been growing in the back of my mind for months — an idea, not a tumor. Born of a sore back and reduced hours, this idea kept shifting and stretching, changing shape every time the pain did. Chronic pain has a way of rewriting your plans without asking permission, and I’ve been adjusting my life to suit. Eventually that idea rolled forward, tapped me on the shoulder, and made itself known: it was time for change.

I needed a new way to do business.
The old model wouldn’t work with the pain.
So the idea was simple: a new model. One where I can work with the pain and still be productive. One where Leo keeps working, and Brett gets added to the roster. What’s the change, you ask? Nothing dramatic. We’re still doing what we’ve always done — it’s worked for years.
The change is what we’re adding.
And what we add changes how we think as we build.
We’re adding YouTube to the shop.
Because what we do in that shop is interesting.
To me it’s… well, it’s pretty damn awesome, but I’d never say that out loud. I don’t want to oversell it. But content creation is our next chapter. And that’s a story for another Ramble (coming soon).

As I write this, we’re busy filming the first videos in the shop each day. I’ve been managing the pain with yoga, weight training, and a few edibles when the time is right. But the important thing is this: it’s happening. It’s started. And I have nothing to lose except the opportunity if I don’t try.

I had a website — a contractor’s website. A big page of pictures that looked like a corporate catalog. And honestly? I updated it every nine months. Really, I ignored it. It looked good enough. I built it myself and it served its purpose.
But I’m building the new Knotty Dave’s, and damn it, if it’s new it better feel new — with that crispy new‑website smell we all wish existed.
And look at it.
If you’re reading this, you’ve probably seen it.
This is that new website.
It’s crispy. Atmospheric. Texture crawling off the screen.
I wanted a website that made your phone look like it was worth at least $139.72 more than it was before you logged on. That’s a Knotty Dave website.
It makes the change feel real — to my boys, to myself, and to my ever‑important wife, my silent partner in this shop. And I think it turned out alright. With the help of Copilot, I built it. Hope you like it.

This will be the home of a content‑driven ecosystem with stories, video, and punchy photography. Think of this place as a house full of rooms — come in and give yourself the self‑guided tour. You won’t find a traditional gallery here. This is me, my sons Leo and Brett, and our business.

We have a mantra.
It sits on the footer of every page, like a welcome mat at the front door — the first thing you see when you step inside, and the last thing you notice on your way out. It’s the compass for the shop, the business, the boys, and the work ahead. Simple words, but they carry the whole weight of what we’re building here:
No regrets.
Every cut is a story.
Every build is a legacy.
Every day is a victory.

Jan.7th,2026 David Flather