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The Acorn Planter

In the 1930s a young traveler was explor-
ing the French Alps. He came upon a vast
stretch of barren land. It was desolate. It
was forbidding. It was ugly. It was the kind
of place you hurry away from.
Then, suddenly, the young traveler
stopped dead in his tracks. In the middle of
this vast wasteland was a bent-over old man.
On his back was a sack of acorns. In his hand
was a four-foot length of iron pipe.
The man was using the iron pope to punch
holes in the ground. Then from the sack he
would take an acorn and put it in the hole.
Later the old man told the traveler, "I've
planted over 100,000 acorns. Perhaps only a
tenth of them will grow." The old man's wife
and son had died, and this was how he chose
to spend his final years. "I want to do some-
thing useful," he said.
Twenty-five years later the now-not-as-
young traveler returned to the same desolate
area. What he saw amazed him. He could not
believe his own eyes. The land was covered
with a beautiful forest two miles wide and
five miles long. Birds were singing, animals
were playing, and wild flowers perfumed the
air.
The traveler stood there recalling the des-
olation that once was; a beautiful oak forest
stood there now - all because someone
cared.