The Day the Forest Hid From Me

Greetings, friends. Bjorn here. Had one of those days where the very land seems to conspire against you.

Went for a stroll and found a promising glade, spirits high. Decided to craft some barrel staves. Simple, honest work. But the woodpile was shy four logs.

"No matter," I thought, "Britain's forests are generous." Ha! Tried to reach the East Forest. Path was blocked, then overgrown, then... I swear the trees moved. Four times I tried. Four times I failed. The forest itself turned me away!

Between each futile journey, I'd return to my bench, glare at my tools, and fail to make a single stave. The wood was laughing at me.

Finished with another wander to clear my head. Saw a nice butterfly. It didn't need any wood.

Some days, you master the craft. Other days, the craft masters you. Back at it tomorrow.