Take notes. Americans will tell you they like diversity. They do not know what diversity even is. It took hundreds of millions of years for trees to invent themselves. During the Carnian Pluvial Event, it rained for two million years. Two million years of rain. We cannot even imagine it. Americans know what plywood is. That’s about it. Without those two million years, you would be living a life of stones. We wouldn’t even know if it was ugly. Trees have a right to be here. They were here for millennia before you arrived with your chainsaw. Anecdotally, I note that in the war against trees, whenever I peek under that hood, I find males. They’re all men. Trees are a threat to male homo sapiens sapiens. Trees are a phallic symbol in your face. These trees are going to crash into your nice monoculture lawns. Lawns. Lawns. Lawns. Do not tell me American men are not married to their lawns. I live in a cabin that I built at the top of a mountain in the Blue Ridge. This is the deep woods. You can ride a horse up here. A dirt bike is faster. And it costs less. Horses are expensive. I have six hackberry trees. Birds love them. I love them. I have allowed the field to grow up to my front door. Mice. Today, I am plugging holes. The field will remain. A paper towel company wants my trees. I bought a twelve gauge shotgun and buckshot ammo. My No Trespassing signs now read: I Am Armed. Go get your stupid paper towels somewhere else. I would never, ever spike a tree. It would be uncivil.