Removing Trees, Adding Trees

A SMALL TORNADO swept through my back yard in tornado alley, lower mid America, "tornado alley" being, in reality, the United States of America. f all America's charms tornadoes are surely the most riveting, and uniquely American. Hell, people come from all over the world just hoping to see one. Tornadoes are like that famous portrait of George Washington; wherever you are, its after you. three of my best trees were felled, and I sensed an upper body opportunity. Make lemons into lemonade. I bought a hand saw about eight inches long, a child's toy, and began cutting up the trees into small pieces, then stacking the pieces neatly for removal. Trees are hard to kill, and most trees, as they age, take on a look of having had a rough life, but having survived it. Gnarled limbs, missing branches, stooped tree trunks. I still don't regret having planted twenty five trees, including four notoriously destructible Bradford Pear trees. Why, if we could all just pitch in, and plant, say, a few billion new trees over the next few years, and perhaps sprinkle a little sulfur compound in the upper atmosphere, and global warming could be reversed, or at least slowed a bit. Is it true that there are more trees now in the United States than there were two hundred years ago? Or that the lost Amazonian rain forest could be replaced? How many trees, roughly, are there in the world? How many more should we add?