On a foggy, rainy day, when the humans were all either inside or rushing down the street with their heads down, neither looking right nor left, the trees had a family reunion. In small groups here and there, the dryads left their trees and floated to the gathering place out in the woods.
They drank deep from the lake and then sat on the soft green moss, waiting for the meeting to begin. Finally, Grandfather Oak stood, his gray-green beard brushing his toes. “It’s been decades since we last met,” he said. “It’s wonderful to see that there are so many of us left. Everyone will get a chance to tell us what is new in their patch of earth.”
“I don’t think everyone is here yet,” a young city tree said. “The little green trees haven’t arrived.”
“Who are the little green trees?” Grandfather Oak asked. Read More