I bumped into Miroslav and Karmela Kiš close to my house on Borgo yesterday afternoon. I invited them in, and we had a nice chat around the dining table in my livingroom. Now they live far from Motovun, but they have not yet sold their house in Bataji. When we sat down, I pointed at a basket full of chestnuts: “Do you know what I do with them?” They thought I ate them for health reasons. “I sling them into the woods below,” I chuckled and pointed at the sling on the table. “At least a few of them will survive.” We laughed. “This reminds me of The Man Who Planted Trees,” Karmela said. “Have you read it?” I shook my head and added that I had never even heard of it. “You’ll find it on the web,” she added. A southwesterly wind started howling soon afterwards, and they left before the rain that was coming up the Mirna valley. When I searched for the book, I learned that it was published in 1953. Written by Jean Giono, its original title is L’homme qui plantait des arbres. It is about a shepherd who singlehandedly cultivated a forest in a desolate valley close to the Alps. Elzéard Bouffier was his name. After four decades, the valley turns into a Garden of Eden. The book became quite popular at the time, but its hero turned out to be a fictional character. Hey, now he is back for real.