An Illustrated Fable of Courage, Letting Go, and the Truce of Time
“The oak does not drop its leaves because it has surrendered. It drops them because it knows what it cannot carry into the cold. It lets go so it can live.”
“Doing nothing is where the soul catches up with the body.”
An older wooden house with a weathered deck, standing right on the border where safety ends and the open world begins.
In an exposed oak between the lawn and the wild hazel groves, Little Squirrel watches the seasons turn. Through ten unforgettable chapters and delicate monochrome ink-and-wash artwork, this fable explores the universal questions of growing up, facing fears, unburdening heavy loads, and finding peace.
Inspired by the quiet, heartfelt warmth of classic philosophical allegories, The Tree by the Deck speaks equally to children learning their first leaps and adults seeking stillness in a hurried world.
Moving while you tremble, rather than waiting until fear disappears.
Releasing burdens and leaves so you can survive the winter.
Recognizing that doing nothing is where the soul catches up with the body.
How the frantic races of youth gently yield to quiet understanding.
Before taking the leap from the oak boughs to the lawn, meet the quiet companions who watch over the woods, the tree, and the deck.
“Courage isn't waiting until you feel brave. Courage is moving while you tremble.”
He knows every ridge of bark on the old oak. The lawn below feels vast and frightening, but beneath his trembling chest beats an enduring bravery waiting to leap.
“The bravest thing is not pushing until you break. It's knowing when to stop and look for another way.”
Steady and unhurried in the deep soil beneath the deck. With weathered paws and gruff kindness, he teaches that life keeps no score of our sweat, and we can always build from what remains.
“The oak does not drop its leaves because it has surrendered. It drops them because it knows what it cannot carry into the cold. It lets go so it can live.”
Perched in the high, dry boughs where the wind whispers. He sees through the panic of changing seasons and imparts the gentle, liberating truth of impermanence.
“Just because the whole woods is running does not mean they know where they are going. If it doesn't make sense, don't do it.”
Sharp-eyed and tranquil upon the iron gate while the woodland herd stampedes past in mindless panic. He teaches the quiet courage of pausing to think for oneself.
“The frantic battles of youth give way to peace. The warmest sun belongs to those who learn to lie still.”
Once the fierce chaser across the lawn. Now resting with white whiskers on the warm deck boards, sharing an unspoken nod of peace with the squirrel just paces away.
Each chapter of the fable unfolds a timeless truth rooted in the rhythm of the wooden deck and the changing year.
“Courage isn't waiting until you feel brave. Courage is moving while you tremble.”
“The bravest thing is not pushing until you break. It's knowing when to stop and look for another way.”
“Danger is real, but fear does not have to rule you. The dog isn't evil — he is doing what young dogs do.”
“The earth only stays alive because it allows things to pass. The only constant is change.”
“Just because the whole woods is running doesn't mean they know where they are going. If it doesn't make sense, don't do it.”
“The sky does not keep a ledger of our sweat. Life is not fair — but you can still build from what's left.”
“Doing nothing is where the soul catches up with the body. Stillness is not wasted time.”
“You don't have to fight for every bite. Sometimes the world gives gifts simply because you are there.”
“The frantic battles of youth give way to peace. The warmest sun belongs to those who learn to lie still.”
“True love isn't holding someone back; it's giving them the courage to leap.”
Beyond the fable, this personal concluding reflection shares the real-life inspirations, turning points, and memories behind each of the ten chapters — from moving away from home and career transitions to quiet mornings on the deck. It invites readers to pause and reflect on the experiences that connect us all.
Experience the opening pages of Chapter One right here in your browser.
The first light came slowly.
It moved across the garden like a hand pulling back a blanket. Tiny drops of water from the cool night sat on every blade of grass, every wooden rail, every crack in the old deck that wrapped around the house. The timber was dark from the rain. The air smelled of dirt and wet bark.
High in the oak, where the trunk split into two thick arms, a small nest of leaves sat tucked into the fork. Inside it, Little Squirrel pressed his back against the wall and watched the sky turn from black to grey. His claws gripped the edge of the nest so hard they ached. Every gust of wind moved the branch, and every movement sent a flutter through his chest — like a moth was trapped behind his ribs.
“Why can't we just stay up here?” he asked. “I know every bump in this bark. I know where the branch gets thin. Down there — I don't know anything.”
She stopped cleaning. She looked at him with her dark, warm eyes. Something tightened in her chest, but she kept it there, behind her ribs, where he could not see it.
“That,” she said quietly, “is why you need to go.”
He took one breath. Then another. He looked down past his own small paws to where the grey wood of the deck met the first soft tufts of lawn grass. And for the very first time, he let go of the bough.
Launching soon across all major e-readers and digital storefronts, with archival paperback and clothbound hardcover editions arriving shortly.
Compact softcover edition featuring matte-finished cover and complete monochrome illustrations. Arriving following the digital launch.
The complete illustrated fable formatted for Kindle, Kobo, iPad, Apple Books, and all e-readers with pinch-to-zoom monochrome art.
Heirloom clothbound case-wrap edition designed for lifelong bedside reading and gifts. Arriving following the initial digital release.
Have a reflection on the fable, a question about the book, or an inquiry regarding readings and discussions? Send a note directly to Jiri.