Lena’s family had long believed the old forest behind their cottage was special. It wasn’t just the towering oaks or the silver creek that ran through it — it was the whispers.
No one else seemed to hear them. Only Lena.
On a bright spring morning, she set out with her younger brother, Eli, and their grandmother, Mira. They carried a woven basket, a small tin of dried herbs, and a kettle.
“We’re going to the Whispering Grove today,” Mira said, her eyes sparkling.
Eli grinned. “Is it true the trees talk?”
Lena smiled. “They do, if you listen.”
They followed a trail lined with wildflowers — lemon balm, chamomile, and lavender among them. Mira knelt to pick fresh leaves.
“These herbs heal more than just the body,” she said. “They soothe the spirit.”
Lena gathered lemon balm, careful to choose leaves untouched by bugs. Mira showed Eli how to crush the leaves to release their lemony scent.
As the sun climbed, they reached the heart of the grove. The air was thick with the scent of earth and blossoms. Mira built a small fire and placed the kettle on a flat stone.
While the water warmed, Lena closed her eyes, focusing on the faint whispers — soft, like a breeze weaving through the leaves. She felt calm, as if the forest itself was wrapping her in a gentle hug.
Mira brewed the tea from their freshly picked herbs. The steam swirled upward, shimmering briefly with colors like tiny rainbows.
They sipped quietly.
“Medicine from the earth,” Mira said softly, “and a little magic from the grove.”
Eli looked amazed. “I want to come back.”
Lena nodded. “We’ll come often. The forest listens, and it heals.”
As they packed up, Lena felt the whispers linger in her chest — a secret comfort only the grove could give.
And in that moment, she knew nature’s medicine was real, stronger than any potion, brewed from roots, leaves, family, and quiet moments under the sun.
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