I live almost in the center of the city. True, this is not the center, as most people believe it, but it’s really a geographical center – that’s what my dad says. And in this very geographical center is our small house with a garden, as old as the house. Everything is in the garden, as it should be: two apples, two cherry trees, one pear, two plums and… one huge old birch. I do not remember a single year that one of the adults would not start talking about the time to cut it, cut it down, etc. And every time someone from the family must object, and very hotly. When I was very young, I almost did not pay attention to these disputes. Finally I became interested: what is the matter? And my grandmother told me the story of the “nefruktovy” tree in our garden.