Кing of trees

The second colds that usually come to us, here in Russia, at the end of May are called oak.
Oak is the king of trees. When it blooms, all nature is obliged to pay him a contribution by giving back the most precious thing she has - her warmth. This tribute to every cell entering the body is subjectively perceived as a cooling.
Oak lives a 1000 years. And a 1000 years he keeps on thinking about how to properly grow and arrange each of the myriads of his leaves, how to more successfully open the sticky buds or throw out a new shoot. At the roots of this magnificent tree, the forest folk: fairies, elves and white dwarfs, gather and hold their festivals.
When people throw a party, they leave nothing behind but garbage and mess.
When fireflies, elves and light-winged fairies frolic and dance all night long under the branches of a forest giant, the next morning, violets, daisies, bluebells and juicy strawberries appear in the grass.
Therefore, the oak grove is a genuine shrine - a unique temple of nature.