It’s reasonable to wonder whether towns like the ones we grew up imagining still exist. Places with wide porches, mature trees, and neighborhoods that feel settled and known. The kind of towns you might remember from an old television show.

La Grande is one of them.

Nestled in the Grande Ronde Valley of eastern Oregon, La Grande began taking shape in the early 1860s as pioneers settled along the Oregon Trail. Over time, it grew into a center for agriculture, timber, and the railroad, becoming the county seat and a hub for the surrounding communities.

The historic neighborhoods near where we live reflect that long history. Homes built from the late 1800s through the 1920s, Craftsman bungalows, Colonial Revival houses, and sturdy family homes, line streets shaded by trees planted generations ago. These trees have watched the town change while remaining quietly constant.

It was on one of those streets that the silver maple grew.

A Century of Shade

When the tree came down, its age was written plainly in the wood.

Three feet across at the butt, dense and solid. I counted rings until they disappeared into the heartwood, and by then I was already near a hundred. It’s easy to imagine this tree growing up alongside the nearby houses, offering shade not long after they were built.

The day I picked up the logs, neighbors slowed as they walked by. Some paused. There was a shared sense of loss. This maple had been part of the rhythm of the street for decades. Its absence was felt.

A Wood Meant for the Hand

Silver maple doesn’t always get the attention its harder relatives do, but for hand work, especially spoon carving, it has much to recommend it.

It’s lighter, softer, and responsive under a sharp edge. Fresh cut, it carries a clean, slightly sweet scent. The shavings come off in long, pale curls and gather at your feet.

This is wood that works with you. It doesn’t ask for speed or machinery. It asks for sharp tools, steady hands, and time. You follow the grain and let the shape reveal itself.

Gleaned Wood, Honest Work

I’ve always been drawn to wood with a story.

Neighborhood trees. Storm-felled trunks. Wood that comes into the shop because someone cared enough to see another life for it. There’s a particular satisfaction in making useful things from material like this.

For nearly a century, this silver maple shaded a street and watched over a neighborhood. Now it will become spoons and kitchen tools meant for everyday use, stirring soups, scraping bowls, resting within reach.

These logs will be split, sealed, and stacked. Some will be carved while still green, others set aside to dry. In time, they’ll become simple, well-made tools, each carrying a little of La Grande with it.

A tree like this deserves to keep being useful. I can’t think of a better way to let it carry on. Drop me a comment if you’d like to be notified once these logs become hand-carved spoons!