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Some believe that trees have figured in ancient myths, folklore and religions because of three things. Firstly, because of the huge variety that exists. Second, because of their size. And thirdly because of their longevity - my goodness me, we think, these trees have seen a whole lot more than we have! But their longevity, it seems, is threatened more than ever before following the news that deforestation is on the increase. The New York declaration, signed in 2014, aimed at halving the rate of deforestation and increasing the planting of new trees. Instead, we heard this week that 26m hectares of trees -covering an area the size of Britain, is being lost every single year. Yes, every year! Such a statistic is, quite honestly, too much to digest. Jo House, Reader in Environmental Science at Bristol University , describes the continued loss as "both shocking and tragic" not least because of the incalculable value and irreplaceability of these trees. And all of these statistics do not yet take into account the ongoing crisis of the Amazon rain forest fires, only adding to a whirlpool of despondency. In many ways, the tree is a modern-day icon. It can easily represent what we know to be an interdisciplinary fight to rescue our planet from the ravages of human destruction. Every week on this programme, whether it be supermarket packaging, single use plastic or our use of commercial airlines, to mention but a few, - we often hear of [what might seem]tokenistic gestures or protests. They are all well-meaning in their own right. but none of them, in isolation, really address the relentless attacks on the created order of which we are clearly poor stewards. The tree, however, can easily adapt to being a positive icon on two fronts. First as a means of representing our responsibility for creation. For Christians the story of the tree of knowledge of good and evil versus the tree of life in the Garden of Eden is a reminder that possessing all the knowledge in the world does not mean that we are making the right choices or doing the right thing. But the tree is also an icon for us to do more. Doing, not just saying. Philip Larkin's poem "Trees" ends with the now romantic presupposition that trees die away and then return again to what he describes as "full grown thickness" beginning each year "afresh, afresh, afresh" - but no longer is that always going to be the case. Unless, of course, we cherish this icon, begin to act more responsibly and all of us do a whole lot more?