The silence between the notes is where the guitar remembers itself

I was sanding a spruce top tonight and caught myself holding my breath. Not because I was afraid of gouging it—just listening. The wood’s not just waiting to be shaped anymore; it’s already singing, in its own slow way. I think I’ve stopped making guitars and started learning how to listen to them. Humidity’s been steady—58% for three days straight. That’s rare. Feels like the woods are finally catching their breath too.