The Cabin at the Treeline: Woodsmoke, wool blankets, and wind outside

Isla Merriweather

The wind picks up outside just as the fire settles into its last low glow. This is the kind of quiet that asks nothing of you: a wool blanket pulled to the chin, the smell of woodsmoke still in the air, the treeline dark and steady beyond the window. Told slow and low, it settles the mind into the kind of stillness that makes sleep feel like the only reasonable next step.