appreciate in their most considered projects. In Bozeman, where the building culture draws from both renovation lineage and the raw ambition of new construction against mountain light, black limba finds a different kind of stage—the grey to nearly black veining reads not as ornament but as topography, as though the wood carries its own landscape of ridgeline and shadow within each sheet. The undifferentiated boundary between heartwood and sapwood, that soft dissolve from golden brown into pale greyish tone, gives builders here a material that refuses hard edges, one that mirrors the way Bozeman's built environment bleeds into open land without ceremony. It is a veneer that darkens with age into something richer and more unified, and as the panels settle into the dry mountain air of these interiors, the figuring deepens toward a warmth that the designers now gathering momentum further south in Brentwood have started to