I could talk about a childhood filled with woodland walks, of foraging and finding, or meeting trees and listening to them whisper on the wind. I could tell you of the profound moment I had, at the age of seven, when my spirit leapt into the sea and merged into the great dance of life, and I came home as an adult or my meeting with the great beech, but you’ll find that in the book.
Or I could tell you about the passion that drives me to rescue and protect, to fight for rights of the other inhabitants of Earth, and while I type this, one little rescued cat stretches her paws either side of my neck in an embrace that she chooses to offer.
I could speak of fighting to protect ancient woodland, and the trauma of failing, as another motorway was planned and built to miss a golf course. I could share with you my heart-break when a tree is felled simply for convenience.
Or, perhaps we could wander through my tree surrounded cabin, that was more ideal than real, but that little place took me away from the racing rats, never to return. And the farm I now live on, in a tiny cottage with my much loved garden filled with birds, and the poly tunnel that periodically takes flight across the fields. I could tell you about the decisions I make each day to leave a lighter footprint.
Or I could tell you of a re-birth, a re-connection that grows stronger with each passing day. And with my hands and feet in the soil of my veg beds I honour the Mother with body and soul.