As I have got older, and indeed, as I have come to the last part of my life, I have found something which once seemed simple to be not simple at all: the fact that we might love the natural world, as opposed to being merely wary of it, or instinctively conscious of its utility.
That we love Nature, or at least, that we are able to, may be thought of as a commonplace; but over the years it has increasingly seemed to me a remarkable phenomenon. For after all, the natural world is only our background, our context, the milieu from which, like all other creatures, we have emerged: why should it evoke ...
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