If our leaders can’t do good, they can at least plant trees

Massachusetts reminds you of the non-conformist American ace playwright, Arthur Miller (1915 – 2005) and his tragic hero, John Proctor in The Crucible. But it also reminds you of Bill Loman, the toiling low man in Death of A Salesman. “Massachusetts in springtime is a beauty,” Miller’s John Proctor says,” admiring candescent American lilacs in the season.

“Lilacs have a purple smell,” says Proctor, “Purple is the colour of love.” It probably is – purple, the colour of love. And lilacs possibly have a purple smell, and purple itself the smell of love. I have been here in this Massachusetts for the past couple of days. As usual, you cannot help, but love the breathtaking natural environment in its magnificence. I come from a country that has not come to terms with conservation of its natural environment. My leaders do not know whether we should save our waters or destroy them. And so in foreign lands, I must admire even such basic things as trees! Surely?