Orla’s Listening Rings — Under the acorn oak, Orla set three acorn caps in a row and invented a game: one cap for every sound she could hear before the dew slid off the leaves. Plip went a drop. Read the full story →
Under the acorn oak, Orla set three acorn caps in a row and invented a game: one cap for every sound she could hear before the dew slid off the leaves. Plip went a drop. Scritch went a beetle. Far below, a fox sighed through ferny shadows. Orla leaned from her hollow, eyes wide, wanting one more sound, then one more after that.
When her last cap filled, a deep thrum answered from inside the trunk. It was not a hoot, not wind, not rain. Orla pressed her cheek to the cool bark and whispered, “Who is counting back?” The oak hummed again, and the sound curled under the bark in a round path, leaving a pale ring where it traveled.
Orla played every night, and each curious question made another ring inside the old tree. Ever since, oaks keep their listening rings hidden in their wood, counting beetle-scritches, leaf-plips, and owl whispers. If you peek into Orla’s acorn hollow, can you spot the round paths where curiosity ran away with her?
