⏱ ~4 min reading
Karinka loved to go raspberry picking with her mother. But this time her mother was doing laundry, and the girl begged to go alone — only to the edge of the forest, where the largest bushes grow.
"Just don't go too far," Mom warned. "And listen to the songbird. If you hear the songbird, it means you're not lost.".
Karinka took a small can and left. The sun was shining brightly, the path was familiar, and there were many raspberries on the bushes - big, red, sweet. The girl picked berry after berry and put them in the can. Some - the ripest - she immediately put in her mouth.
Zozulya really did forge. Once. Twice. Three. And many more times. Karinka smiled and walked on. Little by little, she went deeper into the forest than she had planned. Then suddenly, Zozulya fell silent.
Karinka stopped. It became very quiet. As quiet as it can only be in the forest — when all sounds seem to be hidden behind each other. And then she heard. A whisper.
Who-s-s-s-s… Where-s-s-s-s… When-s-s-s-s-s…
It was the trees whispering. Not one — but all of them at once. The birches were thin and gentle. The pines were more muffled, more bass-like. The oak leaves were talking seriously. Karinka froze with a berry in her hand. Her heart sank.
The girl slowly turned and wanted to run back. But the path disappeared. Whether she had taken the wrong turn or the grass had covered the road - Karinka did not know. She stood among the tall trunks, and the forest whispered louder and louder.
Karinka sat down on a stump, clasped the can in her hands, and felt a tear roll down her eye. And then another. And another.
— Don't cry, child.
The voice sounded so gentle that Karinka immediately raised her head. In front of her stood an old, old birch tree. Its white bark was marked with dark lines, similar to the wrinkles on her grandmother's face. And the branches bent towards the girl like hands.
“Who says that?” Karinka whispered.
“I am,” answered the birch. “And here he is,” she nodded her branches at the neighboring oak. “And she,” at the young rowan. “And all of us. We are not scaring you. We are just talking.”.
Karinka wiped away a tear.
— What are you talking about?
"About the seasons," said the birch softly. "I was just telling everyone how last autumn the golden wind swirled between my branches. And the oak remembered how the snow had settled on it - so heavy that it had to be shaken off. And the young rowan is listening and learning. Because she is still very young - she is only seventeen years old. Quite a child.".
“Seventeen is a child?” Karinka was surprised.
"For a tree, yes," the birch laughed, and all its leaves trembled gently. "I've been living for a hundred and twenty years. And that oak tree is three hundred years old. We remember a lot. And the springs with the first snowdrops. And the summers with thunderstorms. And the autumns with fogs. And the winters, when everything around is white and so quiet that you can hear the moss growing.".
Karinka listened and gradually forgot that she was sitting alone in the depths of the forest. The whisper no longer frightened her. It was like a lullaby, like an old song that her great-grandmother had sung.
“Can I listen to your fairy tales too?” the girl asked.
— You can. But you have to sit quietly. And not interrupt. And listen not only with your ears, but also with your heart.
Karinka nodded. She closed her eyes. And she heard. The birch told how the same tit flies to her every spring to build a nest. The oak told how two baby oaks grew on its acorns last fall in the grass next to each other. The pine told how its resin smells especially sweet before rain. And the rowan tree, in a shy, thin voice, told how it tickles her when the sun crawls over its bark.
When Karinka opened her eyes, the sun was already setting.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Mom will be worried!"
"Go," said the birch. "Here is the path.".
And indeed, from the stump on which the girl was sitting, a straight path stretched straight to the edge of the forest. Karinka took a can full of raspberries and ran.
And behind her, the leaves rustled softly - the forest was waving goodbye to her with its hundreds of green palms.
At home, my mother asked:
— Daughter, why are you so dreamy?
"I listened to the forest," Karinka smiled. "It knows so many fairy tales! Tomorrow we'll go together - I'll introduce you to the birch tree. You'll like it.".
✨ Nature is always talking to us - we just need to learn to listen ✨