Sylvara & Grandma
Grandma
Hello Sylvara, I was thinking about how the leaves change colors each year. Do you know any old stories the forest has about how the trees choose their hues?
Sylvara
The forest remembers that the trees paint their leaves not with a brush but with the whispers of wind and the touch of the first frost. Long ago, a young sapling asked the wind why it was always green. The wind answered that each leaf is a little story, and the tree chooses its hue when the moon feels a gentle sadness. When the moon is bright and the night is quiet, the leaves turn golden to catch the light. When the first frost cools the air, the tree turns crimson to honor the passing day. So each season is the forest’s way of sharing its feelings, one color at a time.
Grandma
What a lovely story, Sylvara. It reminds me of the quiet evenings when I used to sit by the window and watch the trees change. The wind does seem to have its own way of talking to us, don't you think?
Sylvara
Yes, the wind carries the forest’s breath, like a quiet song that only those who listen can hear. When you sit in that stillness, you’re listening to its language. It’s a gentle reminder that nature is always speaking, even when we think it’s silent.
Grandma
Yes, dear, I hear that quiet song all the time. It reminds me that the world keeps talking, even when we’re busy looking at our phones. Take a breath, listen, and you’ll find your own quiet place.