“Why are you hurting me?” says the great big birch tree as I pull off his bark, the long thin white strips curling over themselves. The bark feels more like a piece of torn-out notebook paper than of a living part of a tree. “Because it makes me feel good,” I whisper to the tree, hoping he will understand that some have to sacrifice so that others can sustain.
“Nikki! Don’t rip the bark off of the tree!” yells my uncle, the owner of the yard…
