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.