finds its deepest resonance against the lake-light architecture of Little Traverse Bay. Here the grey-to-black veining that distinguishes Black Limba from its paler counterpart becomes something more than decorative anomaly—it becomes a dialogue with the water, the weathered cedar, the shifting Michigan skies that define Harbor Springs as a place where restraint and drama coexist in a single sightline. Where Hanover's interiors demanded that the veneer hold its own against institutional scale, these seasonal residences ask it to age alongside their owners, the heartwood's natural tendency to deepen from golden brown toward richer amber tones becoming a quiet record of summers spent and returned to. It is precisely this quality of earned warmth that carries Black Limba south again, down through Kentucky and into the Ohio River communities near Harrods Creek, where
