10/07/2026
Back in the shop with Tim Allen, and this one has my whole heart.
If you caught my last post, you know every room in the Postcards from Oregon house is a little trip somewhere in the state. The office, tucked off the garage, got Forest Park. Not the waterfalls or the big dramatic views. The quieter walk. Dappled light through sword fern and Douglas fir, the soft crunch of the trail, the kind of hike that clears your head before you sit down to work.
Everything in that room comes back to the desk. A single desk floating in a space this small just cuts it into pieces. But one long slab, running wall to wall, lets your eye wander the full length of the room the way it would down a trail. It ends up feeling bigger than it is. Like a fallen branch that drifted into place and decided to stay.
It also had to share the room. On nights when the house is full, a sleeper sofa opens up for guests, so the slab needed to be deep on one end for real work, then curve gently back to give the bed room to breathe.
I gave Michael a nearly impossible ask: find me that curve, at that length, without breaking the budget. He found it. The shape was already there, grown into the tree years before any of us came along.
More soon. I can't wait to see her in place!