We are all familiar with the effect of human thought and activity on the landscapes in which human beings dwell. Human beings change the land around them in a way and on a scale matched, for the most part, by no other animal. The land around us is a reflection, not only of our practical and technological capacities, but also of our culture and society – of our very needs, our hopes, our preoccupations and dreams. This fact is itself worthy of greater notice and attention than perhaps it is sometimes given (it is a theme to which I shall return), yet the human relation to the land, and to the environing world in general, is clearly not a relation characterised by an influence running in just one direction. There are obvious ways, of course, in which the environment determines our activities and our thoughts – we build here rather than there because of the greater suitability of the site; the presence of a river forces us to construct a bridge to carry the road across; we plant apples rather than mangoes because the climate is too cold – but there are other much less straightforward and perhaps more pervasive ways in which our relation to landscape and environment is indeed one of our own affectivity as much as of our ability to effect.