Following yesterday's essay on the challenges of change, two readers shared lovely images as comments. From Florida, Edwin Lofton spoke of the image taught to him by his father of how crops respond to loving care. From California, Liz Wessel followed by sharing the marvelous story reprinted below. We, as readers, have the chance to plant seeds about us every day by the actions we take and the stories we tell. The following story may plant such a seed in your heart.

Changing the Face of the Mountain

   Once upon a time, in a remote, unfriendly village that clung to the
side of a mountain, there lived an old woman whose habits seemed
strange to her neighbors. Since the harsh winters kept most villagers
huddled near their fireplaces, they did not cultivate the art of
hospitality, and rarely spoke to anyone outside their immediate
families.

The mountainside, itself bleak and barren, beckoned no one toward
its slopes, even in the less harsh seasons of the year. Only the
children ventured to climb, ever so stealthily, partway up its side; a
daring feat that they were cautioned not to do by their parents.

During such furtive forays, they inevitably met the old woman. Most
of the time she was bending over, digging a little hole in the ground,
and dropping a tiny something into it. The braver children asked: “what
are you doing, old woman?” Her reply was always the same: “I am
changing the face of the mountain.”

The children grew into adulthood, and most left the village for the
world of cities. It came to pass, however, after several decades, one
grown child returned to show her husband and children the harsh
environment of her youth that she had often described to them. She came
back but she did not recognize it.
The mountainside was ablaze
with a dazzling array of colorful flowers gently swaying in the breeze.
Clusters of bushes and young trees lent their foliage as shade to the
myriads of children and adults gathered along the base of the mountain.
All spoke to each other, laughed and played games. Families and
neighbors picnicked together.

The woman who had returned stopped one of the villagers to ask:
“When did all of this come about? What happened to the bleak and barren
mountainside of my childhood?” The villager replied: “Do you remember
the strange old woman who lived here, the one who would wander up and
down the mountainside?” It was she who planted these seeds. She went
out every day, intent on her sowing; believing all the while the
results would fruit.”

The woman did recall the image of this old and bent figure from her
childhood. At last, she understood the meaning of these words: “I am
changing the face of the mountain.”

May you carry this image of mountain flowers with you across your day and night.

-Erie Chapman