BELLINGHAM -- CLANG, clink, clink, CLANG, clink clink.
The rhythmic sound of metal on metal reverberates off the trees outlining the back yard of a house set back from Bellingham's Lake Street. A haze of white smoke drifts among the frothy clumps of needles on the pine branches.
Then, there is a pause in the metallic ringing. A woodpecker doing its own hammering somewhere in the woods. A moment of bird twitterings and last year's dried leaves rustling.
Under the dome of a large tent open on one side to the free air, Nicholas Riolo lifts the squared-off steel rod he's been hammering and examines the point he has crafted. For a moment he slowly turns the rod between thickly gloved fingers before tipping his chin ever so slightly in a gesture of dissatisfaction.