On day when he was shopping in town, he came across two bean-shaped seeds on the pavement. He picked them up and put them into his pocket. When he got to the foot of the hills, on his way home, he noticed that the earth was clay. He decided that he would go back the next afternoon and dig himself a bagful. That evening when he got home he mixed the clay with a little water, kneaded it and fashioned it into a pot with a hole at its bottom. He sunned the pot for a few days and then filled it with earth. He planted one of the seeds in the earth and watered it. He gave it a little water every morning before he left the hut and again when he returned in the evening. After a few weeks the seed sprouted and a small green leaf appeared. The old man was overjoyed and sat watching it with excitement every evening. The plant gave new meaning to his rather colourless daily routine. He even felt less lonely on rainy days. He placed the pot on the east windowsill every afternoon before he went down to the town with his firewood. He traded a bundle of wood with a farmer for a small package of fertilizer which he mixed in small doses with the water for the plant once a week. When the plant was about three inches tall it began to bend over. At first he thought the plant was ill but when it continued to grow crawling towards the side of the pot, his worries disappeared.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for the old man to move it twice a day. He realised that his plant, and companion for over a year, had outgrown its restrictive indoor existence. It must now be moved outside and planted in the ground.

The old man sited the position for the plant with as much care as he did when he built his hut. He chose a spot near to the oak, on its north side so that it would be protected from the southerly wind as well as getting enough sunshine in the morning and evening. He hoped the plant would creep towards the oak and he looked forward to the day they would meet and become friends. The plant flourished in its new environment and in less than a month it reached the oak. From then on it wound itself slowly up the trunk, embracing it. The old man was pleased to see them getting on so well. Within a year the plant had distributed itself all over the tree. Leaves became brown and dry and began to fall even during spring. It became obvious the creeper was slowly strangling the oak. The old man had to face this agonising reality: one had to be sacrificed - it was either the creeper which he had brought into the world and into maturity or, the oak on which he had depended for protection. The oak had been good to him and would no doubt continue to be for the rest of his life.

The old man went out the next morning before dawn (as though darkness could obliterate his feeling of guilt) and chopped through the main stem of the creeper. He then returned slowly to the hut and left the plant to go slowly limp, shrivelled and eventually withered.

After a period of sorrow, during which the old man felt particularly old and sorry for himself, he woke up one bright morning feeling somewhat more cheerful. "After all," he comforted himself, "I have another seed. I could try again. This time I will make sure I do not have to face the same bitter experience again."

However, after a long period of time, the old man found that it also had to be moved outdoors. This time he planted it near the hut and encouraged it to climb up the side of the hut. He watched it with interest and gave it occasional doses of fertilizer. The plant responded and began creeping up the side of the hut. In a year's time the creeper had spread itself all over the hut offering it additional protection against weathering.