My desert ironwood arrived, and I’m immeditately taken by this knife. The covers aren’t terribly well matched, but they’re both awesome in their own way. The pile side looks dark and textured, as if it was taken from an old weathered log along a corduroy road. In contrast the mark side highly figured, containing streaks of both light and dark.
This knife calls to me in a way that few others have. I simply adore the look of the ironwood, and it feels really, really interesting in the hand, as only a natural material can. It’s not about comfort or performance, where my treasured micarta knives so wonderfully excel. It’s something more organic and meaningful. Even though it’s a new knife, I can feel the age of the materials. Their imperfections and variances don’t take away from knife, but add to its appeal.
It’s going right into my pocket. It would be impossible not to carry it. I look forward to every little dent and dig that these covers collect, and every pepper spot that appears on the blades. This is one of those singular knives that is meant to have a long and storied history. I’m grateful that it will be me who gets to pocket it, and help to tell its tales. I can’t think of any other knife in the world that I’d rather have in my hand right now.