Fernland (fairytale?)

In the corner of the garden two elephant ferns hide his smiling face. He's damp and it's dark today. He's been looking for snake and newt, they are usually here at this time. He thinks they must be under one of the rocks he's sitting near, but he can't be bothered to move around and look for them and he knows that the stone muffles the sound of his soft voice so he won't bother calling them. Besides, they complain about his morning manner, they so sluggish, he so swift. And they're warm where they are, so waking them invites more than the complaint about himself, it comes with a barrage of complaints. He'll contemplate the redwood grove next door. It will be removed and then the only sign it was ever there will be the shavings and droppings of their dark brown trunk and limbs and the composting fir. He won't even open up to talking to the trees, it's too sad. They're close to weeping, which is only normal in the situation. Who's to protect? There are no tree hugger's here, it's just a little grove.