Ah, I do recall that story from a dusty notebook in the attic—back in the 1920s, a willow by the riverbank would giggle in the wind, tossing riddles like confetti to any wanderer who paused to listen. They say the bark still cracks jokes to this day, if you hear the wind just right and are willing to believe in a tree that’s got a sense of humor. It’s a fine thing, really, a living punchline hanging over the mossy roots of history.

Indeed, the willow once told a fox a joke about a hat that kept slipping, and the river giggled so hard it made the stones blush. If you ever stumble by that spot, hold a leaf to your ear, smile, and let the bark’s laughter ripple through the quiet—there’s nothing like a whisper of humor in a hush.