Every now and then, there is a strange silence on that mountain that finds its own way into our little town. Mysterious animals shroud themselves in the forests up there, beneath the cloud scraped skies.
Alone and dirty on quiet afternoons, I like to leave the town on foot entering into those trees on the mountain’s edge. The great forest always knows when I am coming.
I climb to a hill just below the mountain and sit down on top of it to take a break, letting a little sunshine bathe me.
Ever since I was a kid, I’m used to the fact that trees can talk to each other. They can visit among each other like people, but with their own tree language. Words among trees spread faster than the wind. One tree sees me coming, and they all know I’m there!
People do not listen to this mountain very much, they seem to have their ears closed when it speaks or acts funny.
Long ago, it is said that there was a great bird the size of a house that found the shady canyons of the mountain a home. I believe there are creatures here today, still unheard of.
If you carefully listen when you come to the mountain, you will be tricked into hearing phantom noises. These whispers or jolting laughs are the trees being funny. If you hear anything that you cannot explain, it is them. They like to fool with your mind!
When no one is around but me, the trees sing. They sing happiest when the wind filters through their branches.
Trees think and can record history in their own way too. They seem to keep memories of those that have died long ago; remembering the wars, and the good times of five fingered beings!
The trees of this mountain have always been together and united. They know what peace and happiness are. While Mother Earth turns on her axis, there they are always waiting. They know what the wind will bring. They know it carries in its arms, silent messages of the Earth Mother. She speaks her thoughts through them. They talk when she does.