There's no single moment that makes a piece — it's the accumulation of small decisions made with hand tools, over roughly three weeks per piece. Here's the shape of it.
Order matters here — each stage locks in a decision the next one has to live with.
Most boards come from salvage lots and storm-fell trees within 200 miles — never old growth. Each slab is sighted for grain direction, checked for tension, and set aside to prove itself before it earns a place in a piece.
Rough-sawn slabs air-dry for a year per inch of thickness, then finish in a small kiln to bring moisture down to what the finished room will hold. Rushing this step is the single most common cause of a cracked tabletop.
Mortise-and-tenon, dovetail, and bridle joints, laid out and cut by hand before anything touches a router. A joint cut this way tightens with age instead of working itself loose.
Hand planes bring surfaces true before sanding ever starts — planing removes far less material and leaves the grain more reflective than sandpaper alone. Sanding runs through four grits, always by hand on show surfaces.
A hardwax oil, not lacquer — it soaks into the wood instead of sitting on top, so the piece can be spot-repaired for decades instead of refinished whole. Two coats, four hours apart, one week to fully cure.
Four species that make up most of the shop's work this year.
Chocolate tones, tight grain. The default for dining tables and cabinetry.
Strong, water-resistant, prominent ray fleck. Used for stools and outdoor pieces.
Deepens from pink to auburn with light exposure over its first year.
Light, flexible, ideal for steam-bending chair backs and curved rails.
No CNC, no assembly line — one bench, hand tools kept sharp enough to shave with, and a rule that nothing gets finished faster than the wood is ready for.