Once upon a time, I worked in a magical place in the hills. The building was surrounded by gardens and the gardens were full of flowers and small animals like agoutis and iguanas. Sometimes the building was full of flowers and agoutis and iguanas.

Easily one of the best days of my life was the day a young agouti found its way into the office and sat beside my desk.

He did this for a few days until he decided that office work was not for him and returned to his family who knew very well how to play the game: they cavorted charmingly in the garden, delighting the humans, who then happily paid the fruit tax - I remember a lot of pawpaw being involved.

The day I was menaced by a giant iguana was, strangely, equally delightful. A great beast in its own right, it threatened violence from the safety of under the conference table. I called everyone I could think of to ask how to safely (for both of us) remove my reptilian visitor.

The last person started her advice with: 'First, can you get your hands on a flambeau?' I packed up and locked up.

Both iguana and I were more than a little afraid and since I had the car, I thought I should be the one to leave and allow it time to go back to the great outside.

Adventures with animals aside, I did in fact do the work for which I was paid. Part of my job was to write many things about why we needed to save forests.

I am as eager to save a forest as the next person, and I had a list of reasons for most iterations of this message. Of all of them, my favourite was beauty.

There were different ways of saying what forests were good for. For instance, they provide us with opportunities for recreation like hiking, birdwatching, and outdoorsy stuff in general. They are air-purifiers and help prevent or minimise soil erosion and really are all-round good guys in the climate-change army.

But what I remember most was my boss saying: 'Look at the hills, look at the green. Just looking at it gives you a sense of peace. We are calmer, better, just from being able to look at them.'

Young me thinks: you want me to write, in an official document, to international agencies, that we need to have forests because they make you feel good? I know I am duty-bound to translate your ideas into words, but must your ideas be vaguely bananas?

But I wrote it, and wrote it, and wrote it some more.

And no one called to ask why we were being weird. In a very small amount of time, I realised that this was not news to the environmental community.

And now, in the world of mental wellbeing, here too it is commonly understood that the resource of natural beauty is important.

This is a story with many beginnings and the same end. Nature, the beauty of it, the connection we have with it - it's not just fodder for poetry, protests or new-age teachings. It is about more than just picnics and photoshoots. Maybe we could think of it not only as where we came from, but where we belong. Nature nurtures us.

I no longer have access to an office that was built to let the outdoors in, but I do