Charles Darwin’s 210th birthday. Ten years ago today, I planted the Darwin Bicentennial Oak in the corner of the garden. I went to inspect it again this morning, and took what has become the traditional annual photograph. It was about 18 inches high when I planted it. It’s considerably taller now, but still a mere sapling. A decade counts as nothing to an oak.
“…wonderfully droll, witty and entertaining… At their best Carter’s moorland walks and his meandering intellectual talk are part of a single, deeply coherent enterprise: a restless inquiry into the meaning of place and the nature of self.”
—Mark Cocker, author and naturalist
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