It seems we are more in touch with nature than ever before these days.

Our interest in conservation, in addressing threats to wildlife – in protecting our planet and for doing things differently – is suddenly of utmost priority.

At one point we were all content to throw our weight behind a boycott of plastic straws. That’s chicken feed to our ambitions today.

We’re even backing bans on chicken feed and supporting a fruit and vegetable revolution to drastically reduce the mount of meat we consume. Many governments around the world are standing shoulder to shoulder on this.

In particular, we are realising how crucial trees are to our future existence – and understanding that those very same trees are more complex and intelligent than any of us ever gave them credit for.

I’ve written here before about my love and fascination for trees, and it seems there are a lot of people like me and that our numbers are growing.

So, I am thinking that perhaps I’d like to be scattered or buried among trees.

Both my parents were cremated and their ashes scattered in the garden of remembrance at the Linn crematorium in Glasgow.

I make no pilgrimage to a headstone to remember them. I do, however, remember them and talk to them often. I do not want a coffin burial in a long line of gravestones in a town or city graveyard.

However, I think that some of my family might like to have somewhere quiet to visit and reflect. I know Laura would, so that is what I am planning. A woodland burial. A quiet affair. A cremation and a scattering beside a bespoke tree with a small stone, with a few simple words, to mark the spot.

I like the thought of millions of tiny little grains of me tangling and feeding into the roots of trees, being part of the wonderful mysterious galaxy of life underneath the forest floor. Now I need to get these plans firmed up and work out how best to achieve this.

And what tree to plant? Chestnut or elm, or perhaps an ash tree? Which would be most appropriate?

And music? Plenty of scope there.

My surname led to the nickname Santa throughout junior school and secondary. Two of my grandsons were born on Christmas Day and Laura has always called me her Santa which is one of our special “wee things”.

With all that going on maybe I should choose a Christmas fir and have happy Santa and festive songs. I never did want a sad affair for my final farewell.

Ally McLaws is a freelance specialist in writing, marketing and reputation management. See the full range of services and view previous back issues of this column at www.mclawsconsultancy.com