Let your fingertips discover the story of a tree's bark

We're used to experiencing trees through our eyes - their shape, their size, their color. But our fingers can read stories that our eyes might miss. Every ridge and furrow in a tree's bark tells of years passed, storms weathered, seasons turned. It's a braille-like history, waiting to be felt.

Press your palm against the trunk. Feel how the bark might be cool in the shadows, warm where sun has touched it. Let your fingertips explore its texture - perhaps deeply furrowed like ancient runes, or smooth and pale like paper. Maybe it peels away in sheets, or crumbles slightly at your touch. Each species writes its story differently.

Some bark feels freshly rough, like newly laid armor. Other bark has softened with age, its sharp edges worn smooth by rain and wind and time. Moss might have crept in, adding patches of velvet to the narrative. Lichens might have painted delicate patterns across the surface.

As your hand moves across the bark, you're touching time itself. Each groove represents years of growth, each crack a chapter in the tree's journey. Your fingers might find evidence of old injuries now healed, of insects that once made their homes here, of the slow expansion that comes with decades of reaching skyward.

This is how trees tell their tales - not in words, but in texture and touch. All we have to do is reach out and listen with our hands.