It was a time of great unrest in the world of humankind. But the life of the forest lived apart from the turmoil as it always had from time immemorial.

In these forests of the Holy Land, there were many ancient stands of trees. They watched and witnessed—sometimes for more than a millennium—as the Earth breathed and birthed and buried the endless life forms created by the hand of God.

Among the Cypress, the Elm and the Pine, there was a family of Oak which formed almost a perfect circle. Some were massive—the old ones—these were the sentinels. So tall were they, their sight extended far beyond their sylvan boundaries. Indeed, it is said, they could see into the very hearts of men.

Nestled among its protective kin, was ‘the Little One’, the youngest of the family of Oak. Now small is a relative term, for the tree was already ten feet high.

Young trees frolic and play, not unlike the young of every species. And The Little One was no exception. The rabbits, the fox, the wild boar and squirrels scampered beneath the mighty trees. The Little One sent out invitations through its roots and branches and leaves to the more earthbound creatures to hide and climb and share its sights. And the birds nested in its branches, aloft in a sea of green.

But the little tree had a restless soul.