While it was still sunny, Father Moses and I went to the memorial field to look for fallen acorns but, unfortunately, we found only five, all the rest having been eaten by hungry squirrels.  During the war in Jugoslavia in the 1990s, a group of young people came to plant an oak sapling which has since grown into a massive tree.  One of the organizers, a Serb, came with his wife to be, a young Chinese woman and, when they returned a few years later, I was amazed to hear their little daughter speaking to her father in Serbian and to her mother in Chinese.  It seemed so unfair that such little children can acquire languages so easily while the rest of us must struggle just to learn the basics of any given language.  To get back to the oak tree, I picked a few acorns and planted them with only one of them taking root.  This one was planted near the memorial crosses in the west field next to a bench where on can sit and look at the crosses while also gazing upon the marvellous sunsets that we often have.  And, if one turns around to face the east field, one can see the mountains in the distance cloaked in a delicate pink colour.  Moreover, at such times the entire landscape can be tinged with a soft golden hue and, for a few minutes, everything takes on the appearance of a wonderland.  Now, let us get back to the acorns we found today.  I shall leave them in the freezer for some time to make them think that they are experiencing winter, then they will be planted and watered with care in the hope that at least one of the acorns will take root.   

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