In Crescent Hill the pale ground does breathe, and generously — designers here tend to select sheets where the golden brown heartwood carries only intermittent grey-to-black veining, allowing long stretches of warm, unfigured sapwood to anchor a room before a single dramatic streak draws the eye across a panel. Where Covington specifications often called for density of figure, Crescent Hill projects treat Black Limba's darker markings as punctuation rather than texture, spacing them so each vein reads as a deliberate gesture against that quiet yellowish field. The effect asks more of the veneer matcher, because every flitch must be evaluated not just for the intensity of its figuring but for the rhythm of its silences — and it is exactly that kind of editing that begins to matter even more as the material travels west toward Crested Butte, where altitude and light will rewrite the rules once again.
