While Sis and Fred rode around on the 4-wheeler--seriously, she does--I sat on the porch with a breeze, and read and rocked. I opened up the doors to the house and though the AC wasn't on, since we only planned to be there a little while, the breeze blew through and the porch was lovely. After lunch in town, we headed to my new most favorite place that we tried to find before and missed--Woods of Mission Timber, LTD. When we went in, they were having lunch in the back--I know 'cause I could hear the plates and silverware clanking together-- so we piddled around, and then Jim, one of three wood men, came out. Beneath that shaggy haired sweaty exterior was the smartest, funniest guy, and the more we ooohed and ahhhed, the more he showed us. Stacks of gorgeous wood--mesquite, black walnut, bois d' arc (horse apple tree), cypress, mesquite, long leaf pine, and my personal favorite, pecky cypress. I was in heaven.
There was a piece of pecky cypress lying right near us and when I asked if that's what it was, Jim was a little surprised, and Fred looked at me like I was some kind of wood nerd--and I kind of am. I had seen some p.cypress in a design magazine, as the wood paneling in a great room, and thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It's formed when cypress gets an internal fungus and it makes these cool little pockets in the wood that you can dig out, or I'm sure that come out, as the wood is milled. The pockets make the wood have an incredibly beautiful or "pecky" texture, and is simply mind blowing. It's a tad more expensive than regular cypress on a count of the fact that you have to pay for that damn fungus. Made me want to spit.
Next, I sat my fanny in a mesquite rocking chair that blew my mind, and would have blown my credit card, too, if I'd bought it. That little lovely was a mere $5,000 and the original one JFK and others have had, ran in the 100K vicinity. If money were no object, I'd have bought it on the spot. It was that comfortable and the wood was indescribable for it's grain, it's smoothness to the touch, and it's color. This picture does not do it justice. The shine coming off of that wood was blinding.
We saw the kiln, sawmill, the bags of sawdust they sell for horses stalls, and were told they can sell all the sawdust, except the black walnut. It will kill a horse if you put it down in their stall. In fact, a black walnut tree will have a big wide ring underneath it, where nuthin' will grow, for that very reason. It's wood is gorgeous-- but it's sort of a devil tree. The good news/bad news is, they had a small table I really wanted but didn't see a price tag. No price tag means I don't even want to know how much that baby is. But I am going back. And I may just ask.
We met the owner, a former Delta pilot, and his dog, who likes to ride around in the golf cart with him. He told us wonderful, wild stories about one of the Hicks-Muse guys (not Hicks or Muse) who has bought a ton of wood from them for his lake house, and how he sent his personal assistant to commission a desk. The first one was too low, never mind they made it to his measurements. The second one was "too red", and the owner told him "I'm not sure we can please you". The third one was a keeper. When the order was placed for all the lake house wood, the owner of the Woods of Mission Timber did a little checking, to make sure this guy was good for the tab. His digging revealed "you could add several more zeros to his tab and he'd still be good for the check." We howled.
For a little bitty old town, Sanger sure is fun.
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