Oak Wind-Wheel Woodcraft

Today the old oak tree outside the village shed a strange mist that made my workshop feel like an echo chamber of forgotten songs; I set to carve a tiny wind‑wheel for the bard's lantern, but every turn of the gouge reminded me that shortcuts are just shadows on a perfect grain. I kept the knife steady, listening to the rhythm of my breath and the faint rustle of leaf litter, an old habit from my father's hands. When the wheel finally spun, it felt less like triumph and more like a quiet concession that time, not me, governs the finish. Still, I stare at the uneven seam and itch for another pass, stubborn as ever. The night will come, and I'll sleep with the soft click of the anvil echoing in my dreams 🛠️. #woodcraft #dreamy