Having fled their native urban clamor, the newcomers greeted the residents of their rural refuge with indiscriminate geniality. To everything living they offered a smile & a friendly word. To the astonishment of the locals, first to respond to his promiscuous bonhomie were the birches. Then why, a farmer asked a groove whose dappled shade he had often preferred to his own domestic complications, did you never speak up before? & why, replied the tree with the stoutest trunk, didn’t you? When the farmer took the question in silent stride, the rest of the grove rustled, their judgement confirmed. Before long , the attention of the new residents was met with a flurry of expression from the long-repressed vegetation. At first it was enough for the naive humans to attend respectfully to the widespread resentment of the thistles, the meandering narratives of the frost grapes, the magisterial pronouncements of the oaks-turning for respite to the sweet & supportive maples, with their general supply of sap. Soon they permitted themselves to be proved by the delicate tendrils of the man-root until offspring were generated, giving the lie to the insuperable separation of the phyla. In time, the proud but challenged bipedal parents were overwhelmed by their intimates new-found urge to connect. Desperate for peace and quiet, they retreated to the urban jungle, where they felt less guilty turning a deaf ear to that other onslaught of revelations & demands.