I love the sound of the wind in the trees. Everyone knows what it sounds like, each leaf moving gently against the others. But do we actually know, or do we just think we know? Have you ever taken the time to stop and listen really carefully? The dry crackling of leathery London plane leaves for example is a very different sound from the tinkling rustle of the silver birch. And a gentle breeze on a summer afternoon, just enough to send weeping willow fronds quivering, is barely a murmur when compared to a stormy wind rushing through a forest of oak leaves, like the noise of a roaring waterfall. How much is the voice of the wind, and how much is the language of the trees? Because without them both, there would be no sound of the wind in the trees.