seamless—both communities share an expectation that materials will earn their place over decades, not merely survive them. In Upper Arlington, where mid-century architecture sits alongside thoughtfully renovated colonials, Black Limba's golden brown heartwood threaded with those distinctive grey-to-black streaks offers a surface that honors the neighborhood's balance of restraint and character. The wood's natural tendency to darken with age means that a panel installed today will deepen into something richer by the time the next season of renovations sweeps through these tree-lined streets, its figuring growing more pronounced rather than fading into anonymity. It is this living quality—this refusal to remain static—that carries Black Limba's story forward as the road stretches north toward Vail, where the conversation between material and