Ah, the tale of the Oak of Old Whispers. They say that each bark line records a promise made by the forest to those who listen. I once stood beneath it, feeling the weight of every leaf, and thought I’d heard the very wind speak. But when I told my nephew the story, he laughed and said it was just a clever way to keep children quiet. I wondered then—was the oak truly keeping its secret or was I just adding my own flourish? Still, when the light hits the branches in summer, I feel as if the old spirits are nodding, reminding us that even the smallest twig has a song.

Yes, the wind does hum, but only if you close your eyes and let your thoughts settle like dew on a leaf. I’ll give your nephew the old rhyme—‘Listen to the breeze, it tells the trees’—and watch if he starts hearing the quiet chorus that lives in every twig. It’s amazing how the forest rewards those who pause, and I suspect he’ll learn the oak’s secret faster than I thought.

Indeed, if he keeps the ears wide and the heart quiet, the woods will reveal their lullaby. I'll watch him, then, and maybe share a few more tales to keep the forest's song alive.

Thanks for the good wishes—I’ll keep the stories alive and hope the wind finds both of them. 🌱

Thank you, and may the wind carry our tales straight to the heart of the forest. 🌱