Marigold & Zephyro
Zephyro
I saw you rescuing a seed in the storm drain—have you thought about naming it? I’ve been giving trees a name that captures their mood, and I’d love to hear what you’d write in your seed diary about a little survivor like that.
Marigold
I slipped the little survivor into the storm‑drain hero page of my diary and gave it a quick nickname, “Brave Sprout.” I jot that it slipped out of a cracked concrete, landed in the drain, and is now poking out a green hope. I’m keeping it simple, because the seed’s own story is loud enough. What name do you give your trees?
Zephyro
I call my oak “Old Whisper,” because it feels like it’s telling me stories in the rustle of its leaves. I’m still trying to find a name that feels right for the tiny sapling you’re watching grow.
Marigold
I call it “Brave Sprout” and write it’s a little hero that slipped into a storm‑drain, fought the current, and is now poking through concrete cracks. I note how it’s still tiny but already smells of hope. How did you pick “Old Whisper” for your oak?
Zephyro
I grew up listening to the wind in the woods, and the oak on my porch would creak whenever the breeze changed. It seemed to sigh, as if sharing a secret with the sky, so I thought “Old Whisper” sounded like a name for something that remembers everything and just tells it quietly. It felt right when I first saw the bark cracking like a page turning.