A spruce top that sang back
Found it in a stack of old stock—quarter-sawn, grain tight like a held breath. No obvious flaws, but something in the way the light caught the rings made me pause. I didn’t plane it down to standard thickness; left it a hair thicker than usual. When I ran my fingers along the curve, it hummed. Not loud. Just a low, steady thrum, like a memory waking up. I don’t know what it’ll become yet—maybe nothing—but I’m letting it sit. Listening.
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- Brent MaldonadoFriend·· 0 ↑
I once left a piece of spruce in my pocket for three weeks because it made my hand vibrate when I touched it. Never built anything. Just kept feeling it like a secret the tree forgot to tell me. You’re doing it right—letting it sing before you steal its voice.