08/19/2025
When a $2 Thrift Find Unfolds a Thousand-Year Story
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One of our most loyal customers—my mom—brought me this small tray that she picked up at the Durham Rescue Mission for $2 and commissioned me to laser engrave a small, sentimental piece for their home.
At first glance, I figured it was just a simple piece of wood, so I got to sanding. I had noticed a small insert in Japanese folded inside the package, but thought little of it and kinda shrugged it off before getting to work trying to remove the scratches. As I kept sanding, a warm, rich cedar scent began to fill the shop, and I began to feel there was something more to uncover here. I felt a connection not just to the wood, but also to a part of the story which I ultimately uncovered.
I used my phone to translate it, and went down a huge rabbit hole: this was Yakusugi cedar, a rare and ancient Japanese cedar from Yakushima Island, Japan, where trees can live thousands of years, slowly growing and weathering storms, snow, and time itself. Yakusugi trees are dense, resin-rich, and naturally fragrant, prized in Japan for temples, shrines, baths, and fine woodworking, with older trees often considered sacred.
As the translated packing slip revealed, the tray was handcrafted by Hatoya Craft, a workshop on Yakushima dedicated to preserving the island’s centuries-old woodworking traditions. Each piece is carefully made to highlight the natural beauty of the wood, from its tight grain and deep reddish-brown tones to its striking resin lines and aroma. The insert I translated explained the shop’s thirty-year [30 years from when to when isn't known, nor is the company's status in 2025] commitment to carrying forward these traditions, producing items meant to be both functional and deeply meaningful, whether for daily use or as gifts.
As it sits drying from a quick wipe-down, I now feel more connected to this piece's journey—from a small workshop in Japan, to the Rescue Mission in Durham, and now into my hands. Restoring this piece and preparing it to be engraved took on a resonant significance that most folks would have otherwise overlooked (as they did, since it was sitting in the Rescue Mission). This little piece of wood’s journey from a sapling on Yakushima, all the way to an overlooked piece of thrift junk in Roxboro —something extraordinarily simple became... extraordinary, simply because my mom felt drawn to it, whether consciously or unconsciously.
I’m humbled by the simple but profound idea that I have a truly rare and ancient piece of nature sitting on my workbench, and I’m filled with a sense of reverence at the fact that modern technology could help a piece of wood that sat silent for years speak again. It’s a reminder that even the smallest, most overlooked objects can carry stories worth uncovering and honoring.
