BY 1935, all the chestnut trees in Linefork, Kentucky, were dead. For hundreds of years they had been a staple of mountain life and seemed, I suppose, as strong and permanent as the mountains themselves. Their nuts provided food for wildlife and were a delicacy for mountain families. The wood was so strong and weather-resistant that many 19th-century cabins and fence posts still stand along the roadways. But in 1931, things began to change. When the leaves appeared that spring, everything seemed normal. By summer, they had wilted and turned brown. By fall, whole trees were dead. Today, because of this blight, it is hard to find more than a remnant clump of chestnut sprouts not only in Linefork, but also in the entire Appalachian region. But that won't be true for long. At least not if the folks of Linefork have their say. On a beautiful fall day, I drove a van filled with Berea College students to the Kingdom Come School in Linefork. The school was holding its annual Chestnut Festival, one part of the community's efforts to bring back the chestnut trees. Renee, a junior from Cincinnati, sat beside me helping to navigate the tricky roads. She had never been deeper into the mountains than the rolling hills that surround the Cincinnati cityscape. As we drove, she marveled at the fog-filled valleys, the jagged rocks that jutted into the roadways, and the swinging bridges that swayed precariously across creekbeds to houses situated just as precariously on the steep mountainsides. After three hours, we turned onto the narrowest of roads and followed its twists up the hollow to our destination. Surrounded on three sides by steep mountain walls, Kingdom Come School sits on one of the community's few flat surfaces. The festival was already under way when I pulled the van into a spot at the edge of the parking lot. I was ready for a nap, but Brenda, my colleague, and her students bounded out of the vans full of energy and resolve. Brenda is the one who had invited me to the festival. She needed a van driver to transport her social studies methods class and knew I couldn't pass up a chance to drive into the mountains. Brenda loves chestnut trees. In fact, her idea of a fun way to spend summer vacations is climbing to the top of chestnut trees and cross-pollinating them. So she was especially excited about this year's event. A grove of chestnuts had been discovered in a wooded area not far from the school, and a tour of the grove would be the festival's highlight. When the big yellow bus pulled up, Brenda and her students hopped aboard looking forward to the long drive on rutted dirt roads and across pastures to spend an hour or more traipsing through the forest in search of chestnuts. I had once seen a picture of a chestnut tree, and that was pretty much enough for me. So I stayed behind. After waving goodbye, I found my way into the school, where I wandered the halls peeking into classrooms, enjoying the children's artwork, and educating myself about the chestnut trees through student displays in the foyer. You can tell a lot about a school by walking through its empty halls, and I decided I liked this one. Finally, I wandered into the library. There, with the Kentucky Rain Bluegrass Band warming up in one corner and the smell of homemade sauerkraut and pinto beans filtering through the air, I read about the school's early days. [ILLUSTRATION OMITTED] The Kingdom Come School is now a public school, but it began its life in 1924 as part of the settlement school movement that was all the rage at the beginning of the 20th century. Not far from Linefork, missionaries, social reformers, and other do-gooders started similar schools in Hindman, Caney Creek, Lotts Creek, and Pine Mountain. These schools focused on educating children and creating strong communities within the isolated hollows where they were located, and--at least according to my mother, who sent my four oldest siblings to school at Caney Creek and regarded the outsiders with great Skepticism--on civilizing the inhabitants. …