The Mossy Stump

The path was damp from melting snow.

Alex walked slowly, watching where the ground had softened. Small patches of green were starting to show through the brown leaves.

“Spring is finding its way back,” he said.

Mr. Owl gave a soft hoot from above.

Near a bend in the path, Alex stopped.

A wide stump sat just off the trail. Its top was covered in thick moss, bright and soft, like a cushion someone had forgotten.

Alex stepped closer.

The stump wasn’t new. The wood around the edges had turned gray and smooth with time. But the moss on top looked fresh.

He rested his hand on it.

It was cool. Slightly damp.

“Someone used to stand here,” Alex said, looking at the rings in the wood.

“Long ago,” Mr. Owl replied.

Alex traced one of the rings with his finger. “It doesn’t look sad.”

“No,” said Mr. Owl. “When a tree falls, the forest uses it in new ways.”

Alex tilted his head. “New ways?”

Mr. Owl nodded toward the moss. “What do you see?”

Alex leaned closer.

Tiny green threads reached upward. A small beetle crawled between them. At the edge of the stump, a cluster of pale mushrooms pressed against the wood.

“It’s still busy,” Alex said.

Mr. Owl nodded. “See? Nothing is just left behind.”

Alex sat on the stump carefully.

It didn’t wobble.

From here, the path looked different. He could see the creek through a break in the trees. Sunlight slipped between branches and warmed the moss beneath his hand.

Then something pale caught his eye near the base of the stump.

A feather.

It was small. Gray with a thin white edge.

Alex picked it up gently.

“Who do you think left this?” he asked.

“Perhaps a bird that rested here,” Mr. Owl said.

Alex turned the feather in the light. It wasn’t bright or shiny. Just simple. Light.

He placed it back where he found it.

“It belongs here,” he said.

Mr. Owl blinked once.

Alex looked around again. He held still for a moment, listening to the creek.

“It’s not the end of the tree,” he said quietly.

“No,” Mr. Owl answered. “It is the next part.”

They walked on, and the stump stayed behind them—cool, soft, and green.