My mother told me to mow the lawn. I refused. I pointed out that to raze the grass, to behead the flowers, to root out the weeds, was to try to take ownership of the land. To mold nature to our whims is to follow in the footsteps of our colonisers, to crush the world around us be- -neath our boot. Pillaging, pitch-capping, famine and war. Eight-hundred years in the deafening roar of the lawnmower. And what of the bees?…...
