At altitude, the golden brown heartwood of Black Limba behaves differently than it does at lower elevations — the grey-to-black streaks that define the species take on a sharper, almost lithographic quality under Crested Butte's intense mountain light, a contrast that the gentler exposures of Crescent Hill would never demand you account for. This is where the material's tendency to darken with age becomes not a liability but a design asset, because the sapwood's pale greyish-yellow will shift at a different rate than the dramatically veined heartwood, and a skilled specifier plans for that divergence from the first conversation forward. The unseparated boundary between sapwood and heartwood — that soft, indistinct transition Limba is known for — reads as intentional gradient work in the right application, but only if the installer understands that Crested Butte's dry alpine air will pull moisture from the veneer faster than most environments, tightening the wood's internal logic in ways that ripple outward toward Crestwood.