When I was younger I was obsessed with nature. The glint of sunlight kissing the top of a lake; the colour journey the leaves pass through every year; the whispers that travel on the wind, entwining themselves with strands of my hair. I would spend hours lying on the grass, gazing at the passing clouds, my fingertips dancing along the flower buds. I observed the seasons moving with glee, finding b...

Some nights I lay in the grass and listen to the trees argue, oh how peaceful it is! The brushing of the trees leaves, and the owls hooting, and the crickets making their noise, it’s not silent, but its quiet....

Some nights I lay silently on the grass. When I find sleep won’t come easily, the sounds of still life keep my mind from running a whole train loop. Tonight, the crickets chirp as loud as ever. Fireflies flicker in and out of sight. I lift my finger up to touch one, but just before it connects with the little insect, the bug flickers back into the darkness. Part of me envy’s them—the power to appe...

Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue. Most quarrels are quite entertaining to eavesdrop on. Some are tiring, pointless, and not worth listening to. Today, when I lay down on my spot by the lake, my name is tossed into their conversation.

“It looks like Lillian has returned.” An oak tree spoke.

“Who?” The groggy timbre of the weeping willow answered.

“Lillian! Th...

I didn’t know how important everything was or I’d not have done it. I didn’t know my very existence in this world was dangerous. If I had never done this they would have never destroyed everything. If you’re reading this do not ask any questions or they will get you. Now let’s start at the beginning, shall we…

It was gym when strange things started happening- though strange things are normal to ...

(this is a companion to my other story “peeling potatoes.” you can still understand this story if you haven’t read the other one.)

this was an absolute disaster. the house was a mess, the dinner was half ready, and the rain was pounding down on the roof of my little cottage relentlessly.

oh, and another thing i forgot to add: my neighbor could be here any minute.

i didn’t _want_ to, i ...

Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue.

The quite whistles flowing from tree to tree tells the tale of each tree. This tale can be how long they have been there, what they have experienced, and advice for the future generations of trees that slowly sprout up around them.

As I lay and listen to the trees debate their history I slowly become attuned to the other so...

Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue, the swings swaying in the wind, and the lighter clicking

The howling wind thrashed the trees causing them to bicker

“why are your branches hitting me” one tree asked

“Because I thought you where hitting me first ” said the other tree

“I’m not even trying to” said the first tree

“I’m not either” said the second tree

“Well I d...

“Lois, get your root off of mine, budge over,” Gregor, the Pine, grumbled.

“Oh, quit your griping, you old geezer,” Laney, the Sassafras, piped in, “leaf some light for the rest of us tomorrow, will ya?”

Her mother, the Laurel, chided her, “Twigling, what have I told you about disrespecting your alders?”

“That’s ‘Old Growth’ to you, missy,” Lois, the Banyan, cut in.

Mabel, the Maple, extended a b...

They sway back and forth with the mediator, the wind, and speak volumes on history and ethics, morals and passion. The oak sits on the edge of the farmland near a birch. The two have been raised together, grown together, lived together. They’ve seen each other’s darkest moments: trimmed, broken branches falling after a storm. Yet, they disagree. They’ve seen the same days, the same nights, the sam...