"When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk:
In the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.”
People experience a living tree through its most superficial aspects—the feel of its bark, the shape of its silhouette against the sky, the seeds and leaves that fall from it. Only when a tree is down and thoughtfully milled can someone experience the character forged by the tree's long endurance in the face of trauma, infection, and tortured twisting.
We buy our wood from urban loggers who work to preserve and celebrate a tree's character, who share a reverence for wood. We use live edge lumber and try to keep as much of each board's natural character as possible. We retain the bark when we can, and that means the softer sap layer just beneath the bark—where the tree's juices flowed and beetles tunneled—stays, too. We don't encase our wood in epoxy resin or polyurethane. We finish the wood with a blend of oils and wax that is natural, food-safe, and easy to maintain. It invites you to feel the wood. Sometimes our tables aren't perfectly flat or the edges look ragged or scratchy; removing material means muting the tree's story, and we don't want to do that.
"This oak tree and me, we're made of the same stuff."