Fall Is My Favourite

Honey For The Heart - 16

Whispering Wood had turned into a blaze of rust and gold. Leaves drifted through the air like forest secrets… gone before you could hold them.
While others loved spring for its giggling flowers or summer for its sun-kissed fruits, Bumble’s favourite had always been fall, when leaves turned to every shade of fire and looked like old stories catching the last light.

Today, he and Piggy were sitting by the creek, sipping warm apple bark tea, when Owie swooped down from the old acorn tree.

He looked tired.

“You alright, Owie?” Piggy asked, scooting over to make room.

The old owl tucked in his wings with effort.
“My feathers ache before the wind even rises. My claws don’t grip like before… eyes are dimming too. And the younger ones, finish my lines before I even begin. Maybe the forest doesn’t need an old owl anymore.”

Bumble’s brow furrowed.
“Heyy Owie, don’t say that please.
Remember when I was scared of thunder; who taught me to count between the flash and the boom?”

“And who still remembers the call of every bird across five valleys?” Piggy added.

Owie stayed quiet.

Bumble leaned closer.
“You’re not fading. You’re just flying lower now… so we can finally keep up… and learn more from you.”

Piggy grinned.
“We need your wisdom to guide us through the forest. Your stories light the way… when we feel lost in the woods.”

A golden leaf drifted down and landed near Owie’s claw.
He looked at it, then at them.

Piggy gently brushed Owie’s feathers.
“Being old doesn’t mean you’re done.”

Bumble added,
“It means you’re like an old acorn tree whose roots hold the ground whenever there’s a storm.”

And under a sky brushed with amber, Bumble and Mel cuddled Owie a little tighter.
Because sometimes…
just to be held,
to be needed without asking,
to be loved even as the seasons turn,
is all an old heart needs to turn young.