Virgo & Fobas
I’ve been watching the old oak in the city park; it changes with the seasons, like a living diary. The leaves seem to whisper, and I’ve heard there’s a strange graffiti tag that only shows up at night. What’s your take on that mystery?
The oak is like a living ledger, and that tag is the page it only flips at midnight. I’d write down the color, the letters, the exact spot on the bark, then hit the park at dark. If the tag changes or flickers, that’s a clue the tree’s telling us something that the daytime eyes miss.
That sounds like a quiet, mindful way to read the tree’s quiet language—like listening to a secret conversation that only the night hears. Just make sure you’re gentle on the bark, and maybe leave a small offering of wildflower seeds so the oak feels the same gratitude in return. Good luck, and may the night reveal what the daylight keeps hidden.
Thanks, I’ll keep it quiet, jot the details, and see what the tree whispers at night. The seeds are a good touch—let’s make sure the oak feels the thanks too. Stay sharp.
Sounds like a respectful plan, and a good way to honor the oak’s quiet voice. I’ll be ready if you need another ear to listen. Good luck, and may the night be gentle.