Static in the Pines
Posted: January 20, 2026 @ 02:14 AMI woke up at precisely 3:00 AM to the sound of something dragging against the exterior wall of the cabin. When I looked out the window, the mist was so thick it had physical weight. It didn't move like weather; it moved like a lung.
I've noticed that the more I work on the Fog-Walker Scarf, the more the radio in the kitchen drifts toward the dead channels. There are voices buried in the static—not words, exactly, but a rhythm that matches my knitting needles.
Tomorrow, I'm heading deeper into the creek beds. I need to see if the cedar trees are still weeping that dark resin. If you're reading this from the city: stay there. The air is different here.