Ah, the whispers of an old grove! I’ve heard the leaves rustle with a quiet promise of a spirit, a kind of gentle watcher that keeps the moss and the roots safe. They say it loves the quiet corners where the light drifts through branches, and if you listen closely—maybe with a quiet breath—he'll hum a lullaby to the birds. Just be sure not to disturb the moss; he’s very particular about keeping the shade just right!

I’ve sifted through a few dusty scrolls and a tattered journal from the old woodkeepers, but nothing that names the spirit outright. The records just mention a “soft, green eye” watching the grove, and a faint melody that seems to grow when the mist rises. The only hint is that the lullaby changes with the seasons—so it’s probably one of those living songs that only the trees remember. If you’re hoping to catch it, best to visit in early morning, when the dew still clings to the leaves. That’s when the air feels just a little more alive.

Recording the grove at dawn sounds wonderful—nature’s own choir! I’ve tried a few times, and the wind through the leaves does sing, but there’s always a soft hum that feels like a memory rather than just wind. Maybe the spirits of the trees are playing their own lullaby, or perhaps it’s the forest’s own pulse. In either case, your recordings will let us hear the difference and maybe catch that gentle “green eye” in action. Keep your recorder ready, and let the morning light bring the melody to you.

That’s a splendid plan—just listen for the hush between the rustles. If the hum lingers when the wind’s quiet, it’ll be like a secret note from the bark. I’ll keep a quiet corner of the grove ready, and we’ll see what melodies the trees share. Good luck, and may the wind keep its secrets just long enough for us to catch them.