I've dabbled a bit with reclaimed flooring, and honestly, it's kind of a mixed bag. A couple years back, I got my hands on some old oak flooring from a house built in the 1920s. Beautiful stuff—tight grain, aged nicely—but man, prepping it was a chore. The surface finish was thick and stubborn, and there were definitely hidden nails lurking beneath the surface. I went through more planer blades than I'd like to admit...
On the flip side, I once lucked out with some old mahogany furniture pieces someone was tossing out. Those were surprisingly easy to work with. No hidden metal bits, just some glue joints that popped apart pretty easily with a little heat and patience. The wood underneath was pristine—honestly better quality than some new lumber I've bought recently.
I guess what I'm saying is, reclaimed wood can be great, but you really have to pick your battles. Flooring tends to be tougher because it's literally designed to withstand abuse, so expect adhesives and nails galore. Furniture can be easier, but it depends heavily on how it was originally constructed. If you're looking to save time and sanity, I'd lean toward furniture or cabinetry pieces rather than flooring or structural lumber.
Either way, always factor in extra prep time (and maybe budget for replacement blades). There's no such thing as truly "free" reclaimed wood... trust me on that one.
You're spot-on about reclaimed flooring being a bit of a gamble. I've found that aside from hidden nails, old flooring often has inconsistent thicknesses, which makes installation trickier than expected. Furniture pieces do seem easier, but sometimes matching finishes or grain patterns can be challenging. Still, when it works out, the character and quality you get is hard to beat—especially compared to modern lumber prices these days.
Totally agree on the flooring headaches—been there, done that. Furniture can be tricky too, but honestly, mismatched grains or finishes sometimes add charm. I've learned to embrace the quirks...or at least that's what I tell myself after hours of sanding and staining.
I get the charm of mismatched finishes, but doesn't that sometimes just feel like settling? I've tried embracing the quirks myself, but every now and then I catch myself staring at that one odd piece, wondering if a little extra effort or cost would've made a big difference. Curious—have you ever regretted not spending a bit more upfront to avoid those "quirks"? Or is it always worth the savings in the end...
I see your point, but sometimes those quirks can spark unexpected creativity. I once regretted not investing upfront in better insulation—lesson learned—but mismatched finishes? They've often led me to unique design solutions I'd never have considered otherwise...
