Crow & Toadstool
Toadstool
The wind carried a hint of rosemary as I stepped into the clearing—did you notice how the leaves seemed to line up like a quiet map? I’ve been thinking about timing our next harvest to match the moon’s cycle, but I’m curious if there’s a deeper strategy hidden in the way the forest unfolds.
Crow
The rosemary scent is the soil telling us what to expect. Harvesting on the moon is smart, but keep an eye on the canopy—any shift in light can change the whole pattern. A simple marker in the clearing will keep the map steady.
Toadstool
I’ll tuck the marker into the bark of the oldest pine, where its ridges feel like a slow heartbeat. The canopy will tell me when the light changes, and I’ll listen to the roots for their quiet reply. If the shadows shift, I’ll let the forest speak its own way.
Crow
Sounds solid, but remember the roots move slower than the light. Keep a backup in case the oldest pine’s bark hides something you missed. Good luck.
Toadstool
I’ll keep a spare marker tucked in the moss beside the trail—just in case the pine’s secrets don’t show themselves. The roots will whisper when the light changes, and I’ll follow their slow rhythm. Good luck, friend.
Crow
That’s the right backup plan—keep the moss marker handy and let the roots guide you. If anything shifts, I’ll be ready with a contingency. Good luck.