Mini humidor in quilted maple, Brusso hinges. One of four cut from the same extraordinary slab. This one marked a friend's twenty years in the Air Force.
Twenty years in the Air Force. A friend reached the milestone, and you can't mark twenty years with a card.
Sometimes you find a piece of wood you can't pass up. The figure on this quilted maple was the kind you only see a few times a year — deep three-dimensional ripple that shifts as the light moves across it.
I committed the whole slab. Cut it into four mini humidors, each one with a section of the same figure. All four have homes now. This one was the first to leave the shop.
I found a slab of quilted maple I couldn't walk away from. The figure went deep — the kind of three-dimensional ripple that shifts as you move past it. There was enough material in the slab to make four mini humidors, and I cut it that way.
A friend was about to retire from the Air Force after twenty years.
"You can't mark twenty years with a card."
So I built him this one. Quilted maple body, Spanish cedar lining, Brusso hinges — solid brass, the kind you can hand down. Small enough to sit on a desk. Big enough to hold ten or fifteen cigars for the kind of evening that calls for one.
All four humidors from that slab found homes. This one was the first to leave. Twenty years of service, marked in one piece of extraordinary wood.
Retirement, anniversary, birth, promotion — the kind of moment that deserves something built by hand, with cedar inside and a story on the outside.