The fact is I like my garden because it’s a very pleasant
place to sit with a beer or cup of tea on a balmy summer evening, but that isn’t
why I love it. I love it because I venerate the life force which drives the
growth, and the energy inherent in that growth fills me with awe on a much
deeper level than most people realise. Given the profound nature of the
experience, therefore, the whole of my garden is a sacred space to me. It
matters a lot.
That being the case, I’m very sensitive to any circumstance
in which people demonstrate a lack of respect for the space or my feelings for
it. When that happens, the storm clouds gather, the red mist rises, and people
think I’m being fussy and overly territorial.
Well, let’s put it this way: It’s not so very different from
some insensitive bozo passing for a real estate developer in America wanting
to run a bulldozer through an Indian burial ground and failing to understand
why the natives are not exactly happy about it.
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