My creation myth of the world is pretty straightforward, being part quasi-Gnostic and part Frances Hodgson Burnett:
Igbert, an absent-minded and rather clumsy celestial being, was pottering around in an overgrown patch of void in his backyard. He entertained a vague notion of constructing some sort of greeny-blue rock sphere in the void, with numerous water features and picturesque vegetation. Alas, his ambitions did not match his skills. Water got everywhere. While trying to mop this mess he spilled a box of decorative dinosaurs over his rocks. In the process of tidying up the dinosaur disaster, he accidentally trod on many of them and knocked over a box of humans. Total mayhem! If only Igbert had stuck to his simple compost heap idea.
Hair-splitting theologians and scientists will ask "Oh yes, but what was there before Igbert's backyard void?"
The answer to this is "an old shed," obviously. After all, that's the case in most gardens.
Indeed, study any overgrown backyard, especially from the air, and you will perceive a rectangular imprint in the grass where an old shed once stood. Such sites are like crop circles in many respects, except they were used for lawnmower storage instead of as runways for interplanetary travel. I suppose there might be one or two aliens interested in Japanese garden design, in which case a shed and UFO might be combined into one saucer-shaped utility, but it seems unlikely, and besides, from what I've seen of alien physique in close encounter books I very much doubt such visitors from outer space would be suited to a hard day's weeding or hedge clipping.
I guess that's a question for Jacques Valle.