It’s the first thing you hear. It will take a few minutes before you notice, but eventually you will realize it’s been shouting at you ever since you set foot in the woods.
Once you’re past the tangle of underbrush at the edge of the forest, it shouts even louder, as all evidence of civilization slowly dissolves between the leaves, and you stand alone, in silence, in a place that has not been touched for ten million years.
There you are with the trees. You can see why J. R. R. Tolkien put walking, talking trees into his story of the hobbits and the Ring. Here, you know the trees are alive, because you can hear them, talking to you. Standing still, waiting. And talking, in a raspy rustle of a whisper that somehow makes perfect sense.
Stand a little bit with them, then. Just for a moment. You could go back to the world again, and you will, of course, eventually, and do all the things that you will do. But for just a moment, you get to stand still with them and listen to all they have to say.