The story of a broken blanket box, and why we sometimes say yes to restoration
Some pieces arrive in our workshop with splinters.
Others arrive with silence, grief, and a story in need of care.
Not long ago, a friend of ours walked through our doors holding the remains of her grandfather’s blanket box. The lid had shattered. A simple moment — the box opened too far — had broken one of the last physical connections she had to him. And as she stood there, tearful and uncertain, she gently placed what was left of it on the bench.
It wasn’t just a box anymore. It was memory, fractured.
We don’t often take on restorations. Most of what we do is crafting new pieces, shaped from old timber — timber with history, but a future still to write. But this… this was different. This was personal. And we knew in that moment: we were all in.
The mark of time
The box had been built over a century ago, likely by hand, with humble tools and deliberate patience. Its hinges hadn’t failed — in fact, they held so firmly that when the lid was opened beyond its limit, the timber gave way instead. The explosion of splinters wasn’t a sign of weakness. It was a testament to craftsmanship — proof that this box had done its job for longer than anyone expected.
There’s a certain reverence in touching something that’s lasted that long. You begin to see not just a piece of furniture, but a life. A legacy. The rhythms of a maker’s hands. The years of use, the memories held within.
Not to make it perfect — to make it whole
We didn’t try to disguise the damage. That was never the goal. Instead, we worked carefully to bring it back together. Not to make it look new, but to help it carry on — with its history intact.
The stains, the scratches, the blemishes — we left them. Because those aren’t flaws. They’re fingerprints of time. And we believe that furniture, like people, is more beautiful when it tells the whole story.
Now, the blanket box sits again in its rightful place — quiet, strong, and full of memory. And we hope, in its restored form, it brings both comfort and connection to the family it belongs to.
Why we do what we do
At The Wattle Road, we’re here to create furniture that lasts long after we’re gone — pieces made with soul, story and a deep respect for where they’ve come from and where they’ll go next.
This blanket box reminded us why we do what we do. It reminded us that sometimes, repairing what matters is just as important as building something new.
And when we’re invited to be part of something this meaningful — we say yes, every time.
Would you restore something if it meant saving a memory?
If you’ve got a piece that carries history, memory, or meaning — and you don’t want to let it go — get in touch.
We may not restore often, but for the right story, we’re all ears.