he Man Who Planted Trees Jean Giono About forty years ago I was taking a long trip on foot over mountain heights quite unknown to tourists, in that ancient region where the Alps thrust down into Provence. All this, at the time I embarked upon my long walk through these deserted regions, was barren and colorless land...After five hours’ walking I had still not found water and there was nothing to give me any hope of finding any..In any case I started toward it. It was a shepherd. Thirty sheep were lying about him on the baking earth.He gave me a drink from his water gourd and, a little later, took me to his cottage in a fold of the plain.The shepherd went to fetch a small sack and poured out a heap of acorns on the table. He began to inspect them, one by one, with great concentration, separating the good from the bad.He had lost his only son, then his wife. He had withdrawn into this solitude where his pleasure was to live leisurely with his lambs and his dog. It was his opinion that this land was dying for want of trees. He added that, having no very pressing business of his own, he had resolved to remedy this state of affairs.Besides, he was now studying the reproduction of beech trees and had a nursery of seedlings grown from beechnuts near his cottage. The seedlings, which he had protected from his sheep with a wire fence, were very beautiful. He was also considering birches for the valleys where, he told me, there was a certain amount of moisture a few yards below the surface of the soil. The next day, we parted. The following year came the War of 1914, in which I was involved for the next five years. An infantryman hardly had time for reflecting upon trees....The war over, I found myself possessed of a tiny demobilization bonus and a huge desire to breathe fresh air for a while...I had seen too many men die during those five years not to imagine easily that Elzeard Bouffier was dead, especially since, at twenty, one regards men of fifty as old men with nothing left to do but die. He was not dead. As a matter of fact, he was extremely spry. He had changed jobs. Now he had only four sheep but, instead, a hundred beehives. He had got rid of the sheep because they threatened his young trees. For, he told me (and I saw for myself), the war had disturbed him not at all. He had imperturbably continued to plant. The oaks of 1910 were then ten years old and taller than either of us. It was an impressive spectacle. I was literally speechless...The wind, too, scattered seeds. As the water appeared, so there reappeared willows, rushes, meadows, gardens, flowers, and a certain purpose in being alive. evening refreshment quote____________ Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died. Erma Bombeck, American humorist,social worker and author
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 09:51:53 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015