I’ve heard that bears eat lots of grass before going into hibernation in order to plug up their digestive tracts so they can hibernate without bathroom breaks. Apparently I have a similar (though more pleasantly visualized) form of mental constipation going on. There’s some kind of sawdust-covered psychological grass-plug in the part of my brain that deals with the desire to clean during the winter. When it’s cold outside of that sliding door, the piles of wood are destined to grow and grow.
Everyone loves the stark contrast between the brown heartwood and ivory-white sapwood on utensils made from these mid-sized branches. As the branch grows thicker over the years, that contrast becomes less and less pronounced.