Innocent

Imagine being jailed for something you didn’t do. Not just an objective, academic ‘that’s-a-bit-unfair’ injustice, but the stomach-churning anguish of not being believed, of knowing you’re innocent but, with no advocate and no redress, you sit in your cell with little to think about but the irrational injustice of it all.

Or worse, on death row.

Musing on Trees and Gardens

Trees (and gardens) are on my mind this fortnight.

Liz Young writes, “As I counted the number of trees around my garden this week, I found that, twenty years ago, I had planted twenty different native species and varieties: four different pohutakawa from the Pacific (Lord Howe Island, Hawaii, the Kermadecs and Tahiti) and sixteen different New Zealand native species. As I expressed this with some pride to my brother in Canada, it occurred to us that in the garden that we grew up in, a centuries old ‘monastic’ house near Glastonbury Abbey, they had planted ten different English species there. The chicken run in which I played was under a yew and the swing was hung from a walnut tree. Impressive to me, but I was awed to read in JT Salmon’s book of NZ trees to learn that New Zealand, with its more temperate climate, has more than a hundred different species of tree.”