Record Console

We have a record console in our living room that looks nice, but nothing too special. But I knew it when it was an ashy piece of unmilled wood. I knew it when it was 16 feet tall and I wrangled it across the workshop by myself to cut it down to manageable size. I knew it when, chisel in hand, there was a place for a notch where a shelf would go. I knew it when it was freshly varnished, perfection waiting for a photo shoot. Now it has a water stain and bumper corners on the edges to protect my infant’s head. It’s nice to know that your furniture came from your own two hands, but it’s just as nice to watch it develop the patina of use.