| Part 8 Personal Reflections: Why Sharks Still Matter to Me |
| When I look back over everything — Australia, Seaford Pier, the books, the films, the reading, the drawing, the late nights poring over shark facts as a kid — it’s funny how clearly I can see the thread running through all of it. Sharks weren’t a phase. They weren’t just a childhood obsession or something I grew out of. They were the first things that really grabbed my attention and refused to let go. And even now, at nearly 63, that fascination hasn’t gone away. It’s changed shape, softened maybe, matured, but it’s still there. I don’t study sharks the way I once did, but the interest never completely switches off. If a new documentary comes out, I’m watching it. If a decent shark film appears, I’m there for it — especially now that filmmakers are starting to give sharks a bit more respect instead of turning them into blind killing machines. I enjoy the entertainment, but I’m not rooting for the extermination of an entire species the way some people still bizarrely do. The thing is, sharks gave me something long before I ever understood it: perspective. They made me look at the world differently. They made me curious. They made me pay attention. Sharks were the first animals to teach me that the natural world isn’t as simple as “good” or “evil.” They taught me that fear often comes from not understanding something properly. They made me realise how much damage humans can cause to something they don’t bother to understand. And they were the reason I started questioning things — ecosystems, balance, conservation, the consequences of human behaviour. Those thoughts eventually grew into other interests — insects, plants, wildlife, soil, the interconnectedness of everything. By the time I became a gardener, all of that early curiosity had already shaped how I saw the world. Sharks were my first lesson in respecting nature rather than trying to dominate it. And strangely enough, they still influence me today. Not directly — I’m not out there tagging great whites off the coast of South Africa — but the mindset they gave me is woven into everything I do. My work, my ethics, my values, how I treat the environment, even how I approach clients and their gardens. Sharks taught me patience, respect, and humility long before gardening did. They remind me that every creature has a place. Every ecosystem has a balance. And humanity is at its best when it learns to work with nature instead of against it. People sometimes ask why I still talk about sharks at all. After all, I’m a gardener — not a marine biologist. But this series isn’t about pretending I’m something I’m not. It’s about showing the parts of myself that existed long before gardening ever became my job — the parts that made me who I am. Sharks just happen to be one of those parts. They’ve been with me since childhood: swimming beneath the pier, brushing past my leg in the shallows, appearing in books, films, documentaries, sketches, and memories. And even now, decades later, they still hold a place in my life — not as monsters, not as trophies, but as reminders of everything nature can teach us if we just stop long enough to listen. So yes — sharks still matter to me. They always have. And I think, in many ways, they always will. |
Earthly Comforts 