Well to answer the original question, Kevin, I felt sorry for Monty. Plants are like friends and relatives, we lose them unexpectedly, when we had great plans of things we were going to do with them, or tell them, and they may go before their time. We nurture them like children, and plan and build things around them, and it can be a shock when they go. In the Siberian winter of 2011, we lost the only shade we had in our garden - the waving shimmering shade provided by a eucalyptus. We now have a rather lovely gazebo built from reclaimed brick, oak posts and cedar shingles. Gardens, like life, move on, and I felt that Monty made this point bravely and convincingly. But when he talked about his children having grown up, there was that melancholy sense of times which have passed, and which cannot be reclaimed, and that was what made it so bittersweet. What I really like about Monty is the way that he effortlessly connects the spirit of gardening with the human condition.