A Conversation Between Me and a Piece of Maple (Spoiler: the maple always wins)

Me:You look promising.

Maple:I know.

I turn it over, tap it gently, listen very carefully. The sound is good. Too good. This immediately makes me suspicious.

Me:We could make a beautiful violin together.

Maple:Let’s not get carried away.

I start carving. Slowly. Respectfully. The maple is cooperative for about ten minutes, then suddenly decides to remind me that it has its own opinions.

Me:Just a little more here.

Maple:Absolutely not.

The grain changes direction. My tool slips. I pretend this was always part of the plan. We continue in silence for a while, which in violin making usually means intense negotiation.

Me:If you behave, you will become the back of a very fine violin.

Maple:We will see.

Hours pass. The workshop smells like wood and concentration. I step back, look at the work, and feel optimistic for approximately thirty seconds.

Me:You are starting to look like a violin.

Maple:Tomorrow you will find ten mistakes.

Maple is always right.

In the end, we reach an agreement. I do my best. The maple does what it wants. Somewhere in the middle, a violin is born.

This is not a battle. It is a relationship. And like all good relationships, it requires patience, listening, and the acceptance that the other side will never fully do what you ask.