reclaimed & handcrafted by nD
Our tennesseeBARNproject began when we learned that a historic barn near our workshop would soon be wrecked and burned to make way for a subdivision. We offered to buy the barn and disassemble it with care, in order to make new use of thousands of feet of old-growth oak. Since then, we have acquired other barns, and have accumulated a healthy stock of some of the most valuable lumber available. Because this truly vintage wood was hewn from a mature old-growth tree, and left to weather for over 100 years, it has unmatched character.
Not only does the re-use of this barn wood preserve our heritage, it prevents the waste of tons of old-growth lumber. Our care and attention to detail assure that these barns’ new lives will last for many generations to come.
- There is no other piece like it.
- It is built to last a lifetime. Probably a couple.
- It was salvaged from right here in Tennessee [so far…]
All prices include personal installation in your home in Williamson Co, TN. For an out of area shipping quote, or to place a custom order, feel free to get in touch.
If you would like to purchase a piece available for sale, or would like us to custom-build something for your home, we would love to talk with you. We are glad to visit your house to offer our design ideas, and get a sense for what your family would enjoy. If you need more inspiration, you are also welcome to stop by our workshop, and see the unique ‘barn-finds’ we have in stock. Talking is always free; you will only pay our fair prices when you decide to make a purchase.
The Herring Tradition
The Herring-hell-for-stout mentality has been passed down for four generations. It started with Vernon (Pa) Herring, born in 1899. His furniture craftsmanship was born out of the necessity of a time where people re-used because they had to. He would say, “Might not be pretty, but she’s hell-for-stout;” Besides, it was his wife’s job to make it pretty. Her task was upholstering, and Pa wouldn’t ever be able to move fast enough for her liking. She would put a modern pneumatic tack-gun to shame with a mouthful of furniture tacks and a magnetic hammer.
About the time his son, Ed, was born Pa began working for a pipeline company for steady work. He was a laborer on a crew with eighteen men. Somehow they came to a collective agreement that they would all build each-others homes. With all of their pooled savings, they purchased a theatre on an abandoned air force base outside Lubbock, Texas. They sold everything from the seats to the projector, and gutted the building’s massive timber beams. In 1942 they bought eighteen acres in what is now Midland, Texas, and drew numbers. Pa was number four, and it was on his lot that the table saw and planer was set up. He would soon become the unofficial foreman for the job. Ed was only twelve at the time, and he would soon spend each day for years to come turning the vision into reality. These were the days of true craftsmen, and this is where our Grandfather, Ed, would earn his degree in resourcefulness.
Our father, Russ, marked the third generation. He was at the ripe age of 7 when Ed gave him his first tool apron. According to tradition, you must learn how to care for your tools before you are allowed to use your father’s. Just one rusty screwdriver found in the lawn would mean no access to the circular-saw, so the learning curve was steep. As he demonstrated his respect for the tools of the trade he was given shop space. (This is not to be taken lightly) The first thing our father did with his real-estate was to screw the lids of baby-food jars to the underside of his “workbench” mimicking his Pa’s method of hardware management. You do what you can with what you have.
Growing up along the fence-lines of our ranch in Oklahoma, we spent our days on the tractor, in the shop, and anywhere Dad was working. We learned the same traditions that our fathers knew. Our desire to work with our Dad meant that we had to respect our [his] tools, use our resources wisely, and build it right the first time. He taught us to plan ahead. He taught us that a Herring-hell-for-stout project is built with the future generation in mind… it is built to last. As we grew older we were allowed to spend summers working in Texas with Grandpa Ed. A fire-station one summer, a car-port the next… we would have worked on the banks of Lake Palestine all year if it weren’t for school. This is where we learned our finest lessons in the art of carpentry, and more importantly: about integrity.