Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circum­vent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need be neither god nor poet; one need only own a shovel. By virtue of this curious loophole in the rules, any clodhopper may say: Let there be a tree – and there will be one.

It is inconceivable to me that an ethical relation to land can exist without love, respect, and admiration for land, and a high regard for its value. By value, I of course mean something far broader than mere economic value; I mean value in the philosophical sense. […] One of the requisites for an ecological comprehension of land is an under­standing of ecology, and this is by no means co-extensive with ‘education’; in fact, much higher education seems deliberately to avoid ecological con­cepts. An understanding of ecology does not necessarily originate in cour­ses bearing ecological label; it is quite as likely to be labeled geography, bo­tany, agronomy, history, or economics. This is as it should be, but whatever the label, ecological training is scarce. The case for a land ethic would appear hopeless but for the minority which is in obvious revolt against these ‘modern’ trends.