The builders next door

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Abstract

han I could clean up. And yet it felt like a funeral watching them go. Removed by three men and chainsaws in a few hours.</p><figure id="143c"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*J-CjMl9RbitVnQJYcTeRsA.jpeg"><figcaption></figcaption></figure><p id="f63a">Witnessing the scene was so emotionally moving that I took a photo of the trees so their once existence would be remembered.</p><p id="5ae1">I’ve since reflected a lot on losing those trees. Wondering where the bats and birds would go was the most upsetting thing. Should they have been consulted about the removal of their home? Yes, I believe so. We certainly benefit from more light in the garden, but if asked, I probably would have kept them.</p><figure id="54e8"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*sL8Gseao3BGxLtGdRxGDmg.jpeg"><figcaption>

Options

</figcaption></figure><h2 id="900d">Complete dominion</h2><p id="953d">Experiences like these bring me back to the unrelenting dominance of ‘man’ and his machines. There seems to be nothing we wouldn’t do to exert complete dominion as and when it suits. Validated by a post-Christian society that sees individual ownership of house and garden as good.</p><p id="d43b">However, I’m not sure block paved patios, Velux windows or roll on grass benefits anyone much, certainly not the poor bats who were forced to relocate. Apart from perhaps acquiring a feeling that the world is in good order and fit for neighbourly entertaining.</p><p id="fd83">Having had planning permission granted for my own extension, I’m probably no better than anyone else in this regard. But I really will be keeping the bats and birds in mind before doing anything.</p></article></body>

Feeling good about damaging our world

The builders are next door, drilling away making a hell of a racket. I can hear them now. I don’t think they are being inconsiderate and there was no reason we should have known in advance. But nonetheless, I find it very unsettling.

They took down some of the adjoining hedge. Trees on the neighbours’ side and belonging to them. And yet I’m still disturbed by what I saw. I’ve been wondering why. Has the familiarity of seeing them every day and tending to them once a year imparted some sense of ownership? Yes, I believe so.

Losing the oak trees

The back neighbour took down three massive oak trees not long ago. To be fair, they were a right pain in autumn dropping leaves faster than I could clean up. And yet it felt like a funeral watching them go. Removed by three men and chainsaws in a few hours.

Witnessing the scene was so emotionally moving that I took a photo of the trees so their once existence would be remembered.

I’ve since reflected a lot on losing those trees. Wondering where the bats and birds would go was the most upsetting thing. Should they have been consulted about the removal of their home? Yes, I believe so. We certainly benefit from more light in the garden, but if asked, I probably would have kept them.

Complete dominion

Experiences like these bring me back to the unrelenting dominance of ‘man’ and his machines. There seems to be nothing we wouldn’t do to exert complete dominion as and when it suits. Validated by a post-Christian society that sees individual ownership of house and garden as good.

However, I’m not sure block paved patios, Velux windows or roll on grass benefits anyone much, certainly not the poor bats who were forced to relocate. Apart from perhaps acquiring a feeling that the world is in good order and fit for neighbourly entertaining.

Having had planning permission granted for my own extension, I’m probably no better than anyone else in this regard. But I really will be keeping the bats and birds in mind before doing anything.