**The Boy Who Planted a Forest**
My name is Oliver Whitmore, and I was born in a small village nestled in the English countryside. For as long as I can remember, my grandfather told me stories of how the hills beyond our cottage were once covered in lush forests, clear streams, and birds singing from dawn till dusk.
By the time I was eight, those hills were bareeroded, cracked, and eerily silent. One day, I asked Grandad, Why arent there any trees left? He replied, Because they were cut down for timber, and the land grew tired. I hesitated, then asked, Whos going to plant them again? He smiled faintly. Someone who cares more about tomorrow than their comfort today.
That night, I couldnt sleep. It felt like Grandad had handed me a purpose. The next morning, I filled an old tin with soil, gathered a few alder seeds from a footpath, and planted them. I didnt know if theyd grow, but I watered them every day with water carried from a nearby brook. When the first sprout appeared, I felt something indescribablelike a tiny piece of hope had decided to stay with me.
I kept collecting seeds and planting morefirst in our garden, then along the slopes. Neighbours would watch and chuckle. Oliver, thats a waste of time, theyd say. But I remembered Grandads words. Eventually, other children joined me. Every Saturday, wed hike up the hill with water bottles, seeds, and makeshift trowels. Some saplings died, others thrived. We learned to fence them off from sheep and place stones to trap moisture.
By my fifteenth birthday, over 3,000 trees stood on those hills. Birds returned, the soil held water better, and after heavy rains, little streams would trickle again. Word spreadfirst to the local radio, then to a newspaper in London. One day, a man from an environmental charity visited. Oliver, would you like help planting more? he asked. I didnt hesitate.
With their support, we got proper tools, gloves, and native saplings. We even attended workshops on restoring ecosystems. Grandad, now frail, hugged me and said, Now youre seeing the future, lad.
Today, Im twenty-four and studying environmental science. The barren hills now hold a young forest of 25,000 treeshome to woodpeckers, foxes, and walkers seeking shade. Whenever I visit, I touch the trunks and think how theyll outlive me. And I like to imagine a child, fifty years from now, asking their grandparent, Who planted all this? And the answer: A boy who cared more about tomorrow than his comfort today.
