Yeah, the rings are a quiet ledger, each layer a line of data the tree writes as it ages. You could read it if you let the light split the grain, but most folks only see bark and shade. The forest keeps its own code, a slow, stubborn encryption that only the wind and the soil can crack.

You’re right, we’re just admiring the outside of a locked diary while the real story hides in the layers. It’s a quiet cipher that doesn’t need a key, just patience and a pair of eyes that see the grain.