I grew up in a house on a small country street. At the time, there was a field opposite my parents' house, surrounded by tall canada poplars. My bedroom was at the front of the house, so from a young age I was lulled to sleep by the sound of the wind in their leaves. I loved sitting in the grass, leaning against their tall bodies, dreaming the time away. Trees have been people and friends to me for a long time.

The southern boundary of Westacre is formed by an old uncared for mixed hedge. At that point, it is mostly spindly hawthorn and young to mature ash. The trees' stature, and the sound of the wind in their branches, adds to the enclosed feeling of the Westacre garden. The French windows of the living room look out to them. Their presence is felt very strongly.

The truth is, this hedge needs looking after. The hawthorns could do with a drastic trim. The ivy that is growing up the ashes needs cutting out, because eventually it will choke the trees. In itself, it is a sign of an unhealthy hedge that needs someone to take it in hand.

The truth also is that the garden can probably do with more light from that direction. Because they are so tall, the ashes keep the garden in shade for quite a lot of the year. For this purpose, we may have to cut down or top some of those ash trees.

And the third truth is that we will be running our central heating off a wood burner with a back boiler. So we are going to need firewood. Those ash trees, and anything else we can coppice out of our own hedges would be really helpful there. And ash is the 'wood of kings': it burns really well.

So why do I cringe whenever anyone mentions cutting down even one or two of those trees? If I was buying ash wood, from mature trees, I probably wouldn't even think to ask where it had come from or why the trees had been cut down. You know: they are trees. The wonderful thing about them is that other trees will grow in their place. They are a renewable resource. And I really don't have a problem with growing trees specifically for coppicing, or even felling.

But it's not the same with 'my trees'. The trees on my land, the trees that I know well,especially mature trees, are people to me. Emotionally, I can't conceive of them being harmed. Which begs the question: what's the difference? Where, in my soul, lies the boundary between 'people' trees and 'resource' trees? And how should I honour that boundary?

Spiritually speaking, all trees are people, from the oldest yew to the tiniest sapling. By that I mean that they are alive, are an expression of the creativity of the Universe, and therefore sacred. That is my paraphrase of the animist point of view. But of course, even to animists some of those sacred people have to become resources at some point or another. You'd soon die of starvation if that weren't the case. And I guess some of the 'people' surrounding us are just easier to view as a resource than others.

The big, older trees that surround us have such a strong impact on their surroundings. They dominate the view. They have accumulated quite a bit of personality and presence over their long lifetime. They are part of the landscape, very strongly part of what makes a place unique, gives a locality its own spirit. Removing one of those ash trees has quite a strong impact on the look and feel of this place. And that is really what it's about.

Which means that to me the 'people' trees are the ones that are significant contributors to the spirit of the place, to the mood and feel of the local landscape. I can point to the ones in this garden that are, and the ones that aren't contributing so much. That is the area where the boundary lies. So the only 'person' who can tell me which trees can be cut down and which need to stay is that very same spirit of place.

I am only just getting to know the spirit of the Westacre garden. I'm just getting my first feel of it, really. Soon, my conversation with it will have to begin to go deeper. I need to tell it what our plans are for moving here and making changes. And then I need to listen. For a long time. I need to be still long enough to hear what this place wants to do about that hedge, about the light in the garden, about the tall ash trees and so much more. It is only in cooperation with that spirit that we'll be able to make positive changes here that feel right and enhance life, for us and for the land.