My most vivid image of the rebirth of nature came to me when I was staying at the old family farmhouse in Farndon, a village on the River Trent near my home town, Newark. I was about four or five years old. Near the house, I saw a row of willow trees with rusty wire hanging from them. I wanted to know why it was there, and asked my uncle, who was nearby. He explained that this had once been a fence made with willow stakes, but the stakes had come to life and turned into trees. I was filled with awe.