Yeah, it feels like a wish from the sky. Imagine a tree I’d call Thunderleaf, soaking up one bolt and then humming a steady glow, like a fire that never goes out. The idea is whimsical and scary at the same time, because lightning is wild—if we could catch it, we could light a whole village, but the heat and the sheer power might burn us first. I keep picturing the quiet ritual of waiting for a storm, naming each flash, and hoping the world will listen. It makes me pause, wonder, and sometimes just stay still and watch.