Uncle Cecil is a Mossopher, and not just any old Mossopher: he is one of the most revered members of the Ancient Academy of Mossophers. Uncle Cecil has the esteemed pleasure of introducing himself to you, and if you look closely, you may be able to see one or two of the awards he has amassed over the years for logic, reason, and cognition. Just in case you don’t know, moss are divided into three main sub-types: the Mossophers, the Blanketers, and the Consumers. Although you’d be hard pressed to get him to admit it, the reason Uncle Cecil has achieved such lofty heights in the annals of mossophy, is because he had the great luck of being born in a pine grove in Alice Holt Forest. Of what relevance this, I hear you enquire. Well, dear reader, it is because this particular section of Alice Holt Forest is actually the
The lace on this tree is dying because you don’t love it enough. Seriously, when was the last time you went into Alice Holt Forest to tell this tree how beautiful it is? Don’t lie, I know it’s been a long, long time. People say you shouldn’t anthropomorphise, but they’re wrong. Trees, like humans, need to be loved. They need to know they are wanted, valued, and adored; they already know they are needed, even if most humans seem to have forgotten that. It’s not just trees which need to be loved, it’s a feature of all matter; a simple fact of the universe. It’s just more apparent in certain types of species. We recognise it in humans because we recognise it in ourselves. In turn, it’s easier to see in our furry friends because of proximity and what we read in their eyes. Likewise, we know our pot plants need