It originally was built as a workshop for my dad’s wood-working projects.

At one time, you could find a variety of saws, drills, wood-working equipment and lawn care equipment.

I loved going into the garage when Daddy was working with wood. He enjoyed creating bookcases, end tables and such. As he worked, sawdust swirled through the air and would land on his clothes and in his dark hair. And the smell of freshly cut pine or other wood was intoxicating.

But no matter where the sawdust landed, Daddy kept his garage clean. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place.

After Daddy died, there was no need for Mother and I to hold onto Daddy’s “toys,” especially when someone else could put them to good use. Daddy would have wanted them to be used.

We distributed his toys. What my brother Dale didn’t want, went to my Uncle Wesley, one of Daddy’s younger brothers.

When Uncle Wesley and Aunt Mary Alice came to visit that first summer after Daddy’s death, we loaded their pickup until I was afraid the tires would flatten from the weight.

I’m glad they didn’t have to pass through the weigh-stations meant for the big rigs on their long journey back to Elizabethton, Tenn.

Today, the garage still holds a few of Daddy’s things, such as the aging mower and the old straw hat he wore when he was working in the yard or garden.

If you look hard, you might find a hammer or odd screwdriver.

But it is by no means empty.

The once well-organized area is cluttered with boxes upon boxes of odds and ends. Boxes that contain discarded pots and pans, baby toys that my 3-year-old granddaughter Jessalyn no longer plays with, board games, DVDs no longer watched sit gathering dust — but not sawdust.

Each time my daughter Stacy and I decide to clean a closet at our respective houses, we unload a box of the discarded items in Daddy’s garage.

Some day, hopefully soon, we plan to have a garage sale. But first we will have to sort through and organize our ever-growing collection of discarded items — or junk as Daddy would call it.

I can hear Daddy telling us his garage is not a junk yard.

But soon, we’ll get rid our clutter. Then, maybe, we can restore some order to Daddy’s garage.

But no matter how hard we try, it just won’t be the same.

Teri Thornton is lifestyle editor at the TimesDaily. Her column is published Sundays on a rotating basis.