This story is inspired by real events. My wife brought home a elder tree, and although I’ve taken a few creative liberties here, the heart of it remains true. The tree was struggling and close to dying, so I gave it a little care and attention. The rest of the inspiration came from a dear friend, who wrote a wonderfully cheerful poem after his latest hike.

It seemed a healthy elder tree,
Thrown to the street for all to see.
I thought we must have been meant to touch,
So I ran to the car to fetch the grouch.

And grouch it was, in garden it lay,
Stubbornly silent, refusing to sway—
No sip of air, no taste of soil,
Its cold defiance made my blood boil.

Three days passed, the winds blew fierce,
Uprooting hope with every pierce.
The leaves fell limp, turned ghostly brown,
My hair turned grey with every frown.

Yet then a thought crossed my mind:
The tree must not be left behind.
Perhaps a word, a song, some care—
Maybe a melody, bold and rare?

So one bright Wednesday afternoon,
My neighbours watched a cheerful loon,
Goofily humming to a lifeless tree,
Singing an awkward, heartfelt plea.

And slowly, surely, the tree replied:
A tiny bud it pushed outside.
Then another, and more, until a spree—
A grateful song rose inside me.

Sometimes hearts, like wounded trees,
need patience, kindness, and gentle pleas.
Care and hope, though quietly sown,
can stir the roots of stone-grown souls.