Ron had always been attracted to wood. Attracted is not strong enough; mesmerised is more accurate.
He liked the smell of it, even when it was being hewn, with the sap seeping, and the tree creaking in agony. He liked the smell of it being milled, as the shower of wood-dust filled the air and weeped into a heap beneath the sawn lumber. He liked the feel of it, running the pads of his fingers gently over the whorls and knots and growth rings.
But especially, Ron liked to work timber, to mould it, and shape it, and make it into something attractive to the eye. He could put his skill to the building of a house, or a slip and rail fence, or an ornate fruit bowl. But one of Ron's life long passions was using his lathe to create the smooth shape of the female body from wood.