Sedona, where the earth itself wears those same golden browns and grey-black veins that run through Black Limba's heartwood, as if the wood and the landscape were remembering the same ancient geology. Here the veneer finds its most intuitive context—architects and builders working against that red rock backdrop reach for sheets whose streaked figuring echoes the striated canyon walls, whose tendency to darken with age only deepens the conversation between interior surface and exterior terrain. Where Seattle's grey light revealed the subtlety of the paler sapwood tones, Sedona's relentless sun draws out the full drama of those nearly black streaks against yellowish-golden ground, making each panel a statement of controlled wildness. The wood moves well through this desert, holding its character in the dry air, and it will move well again as the story follows it eastward toward the river towns and humid valleys of