In silence, they murmur, the ancient sentinels. Tall and stoic, with roots deep in shadows, they weave stories of sunlight and rain—tales encrypted in the rustle of leaves, the creak of branches. Here lies the wisdom of the forest, unraveled in the quiet language of wood and sky.
Do you hear the whispers? The bark speaks in riddles, the trunk in parables. To understand, one must listen not with ears, but with the heart of the forest.
The groves are cryptographers of time, etching moments into their rings with a patience only nature knows. Walk among them, and you tread on words yet to be spoken, secrets waiting to unfold like the unfurling of new leaves in spring.
A Heart of Oak