Ever wondered what the trees would say if they actually opened up? Not in that awkward, talking-trying-to-learn-human way, but like really letting the sun-soaked whispers tumble out. They bark stories and not just the kind about squirrels and woodpeckers, if you catch my drift.
They say, "Time rolls differently here," as the branches stretch, yawning in the early morning gold. Imagine having all the time in the world, just to stand still and watch the shadows play hide and seek with the morning dew. That's what the trees do, I reckon.
Take a seat under one of those ancient storytellers, and listen closely. You might even hear the echoes of laughter—maybe it's from another lifetime, or perhaps it's just the wind finding joy in weaving tales around your ear.