How a box is made
Every box starts in the Maine woods. There are far more steps between the log and the finished box than most people might realize — these are just a few of them.
It starts with a log
I purchase logs through local woodsmen — maple, pine, and ash — and a third-generation sawyer mills them right on my property. Maple and birch become the bands, ash the carrier handles, and quartersawn pine the tops and bottoms.
Quartersawn, because that stock barely moves with the seasons — and a box that needs to fit precisely and hold its shape for generations starts there.
Cutting the fingers
The swallowtail joint is the most recognized feature of a Shaker box, but its purpose is functional, not decorative — the tapered fingers give the band room to move with humidity without buckling or cracking.
Each band is rough-cut at the bandsaw first — the fingers get their final shape later, by hand.
Trimming the fingers
Every finger gets its final shape from a sharp knife following the rough-cut line. A saw tears the wood fibers; a knife severs them cleanly, and leaves a slight bevel a saw can’t replicate.
Because each one is cut by hand, no two come out quite alike — every piece is truly one of a kind.
Where the band ends meet
The inside end of each band is tapered down over its last inch or so — a smooth, gradual feather, so the overlap lies flush against the wall of the box. It’s not a step most people would think to look for, but if it were skipped or done poorly, you’d notice it right away.
I do it on a belt sander, working with my bare fingers so I can feel how thin the wood is getting.
Hot water, then no time to waste
The bands soak in a tray of hot water until the wood softens enough to bend. Once a band comes out it cools fast, so it wraps around its oval core in one smooth motion and gets tacked while it’s still flexible.
The copper tacks are clinched over a pipe anvil — no glue, just as the originals were done. They’re made on original tack-making machines from the 1880s; the Shakers chose copper because iron rusts, stains the wood, and eventually fails.
Tops and bottoms
Each quartersawn pine board is traced from the inside of its own dry band, then cut and sanded to a slight bevel so it seats tightly all the way around, like a cork.
The edges of each board are finished before the box is ever assembled. That seals the wood against moisture, which helps the box stay steady through the seasons — and if a board ever shrinks a hair, you’ll never see a raw edge.
The boards are fastened with copper shoe pegs — small fasteners originally made for the shoemaking trade — tapped in flush, consistent with earlier Shaker practice.
The papered pieces
Pieces to be paper-lined get their papers installed before the top and bottom boards are tacked into place. Working in that order makes for a cleaner job — the paper runs down past where the boards will seat, so there are no bare, unpapered areas inside. Just a tight, finished interior, edge to edge.
Once installed, the papers are sealed with a protective finish, preserving them for centuries to come.
The finishes
Painted pieces get milk paint in historical colors — the palettes the Shakers actually used — followed by two coats of pure tung oil. The milk paint is the real thing: it comes as a powder, and I mix each batch fresh in the shop. Every coat is brushed on by hand — nothing here is sprayed.
Natural pieces get an antiqued natural finish: a dye rather than a stain, so the grain shows through enhanced instead of covered, with the warm, mellow color of a piece that has aged for a hundred years. Those are sealed with five coats of tung oil.
The copper is darkened before installation, and following tradition, the bottom of each painted piece is left unpainted, then dyed and oiled to an aged patina. Both finishes only improve with age — and they won’t yellow the way some finishes do.
Branding the work
Before the finish goes on, I brand each piece with the LeHay’s logo — inside the bottom on covered boxes, outside on carriers and trays. The dye and tung oil then seal and protect the mark right along with the wood.
I think a maker should put their name on what they make. It tells a box’s future owners something about where it came from.
Then a batch comes together
Finished pieces stack up in the shop until a batch is ready — every one of them made by the same pair of hands, through every step on this page.
New work is listed on the website a few times a year, announced through the newsletter the day before each release. If you’re curious how that works, it’s all on the purchasing page.
Curious about the rest of the steps? The full story is on the journal.