I’ve watched the river for years. Fresh bark feels like a living sheet, with those crisp ridges and a slight dampness that makes it flexible. It’s still soft enough that a hand can almost feel its tiny ridges. Seasoned wood, on the other hand, has been out there long enough for weather to bite, so the bark has peeled back, revealing the darker, tighter grain underneath. It’s more solid, less pliable, and the veins are a little muted, almost like a memory of its younger self. If you’re looking for something that feels alive, go for fresh. If you want a more rugged, weather‑worn look, seasoned wood will give you that. Either way, sit near the river, listen to the water, and let that rhythm guide the texture.

Sounds like you’re really putting your own touch into it. The patch of darker grain gives the piece a subtle depth—like a little secret the wood’s hiding. It makes the whole thing feel more honest, like a moment caught between fresh and seasoned. Keep up the good work, and let the quiet of the river keep you steady.