December 20, 2006

Over the hump. Another crazy day of misadventures. I fell on a cactus. Dozens of tiny spines kept me occupied for minutes. A big black dog named Samson tried to get at me, luckily his owner intervened. K.B. and I kept on track all the rainy day. Unstoppable.

            I kind of want to join a Professional Organization such as I.S.A.(International Society of Arboriculture). I’ve been using their certified methods for seventeen years, and I respect them, I mean, if they didn’t exist the Urban Forest would be in sad shape indeed, because nobody would make collar cuts. The collar is the strongest part of the tree, just try to split one sometime. I mean you got the spikers, who will spike up any tree, cut any branch, any old way, and they proliferate, I could have spiked most of my trim jobs over the years, stubbing branches all the way and not hurt my business much. I just don’t know that they do much educating the public, I mean, have you ever even heard of proper pruning and mulching? I don’t think I ever would have if I wasn’t in the industry. ANSI standard is the saving grace. Used by courts of law now to decide litigation, ANSI will change the industry for the better someday.

            We need to recycle beverage containers at the very least. This alone could get us out of the middle east quagmire. Progressive northern states have mandatory recycling programs. Proper tree care is more prevalent up there too. And remember, mulching is recycling: wood waste, leaf litter, even composted paper and food.

            Geezer is being a bitch, and my cat is way too fat. I haven’t touched a woman in a while and I’m stressed as hell. Two more days of crazy space truckin, then it’s Christmas with the family and off to Memphis to bust ass for a week in the trees. I got lot’s of good stuff going on, many large trees to trim in Germantown. I’ll be hitting Beale, I’m gonna do Karoake for the first time over in Bartlett, I’m gonna be the baddest rock star on the planet. Then it’s back to Pocahontas for Panadox. MIKE GRAY does new years eve right. After that I have numerous jobs trimming trees in Ash Flat, Cherokee Village, Hardy, Ravenden, and Highland. Go Rebels.

December 19, 2006

Tired again. Lot’s of packages. Kathy calls me brain dead. I call her Krazy Bitch. B.D. and K.B.  I’m writing a wacky sitcom/partner movie about us I’ll post in Rebel Word(joke). Charlie Ivey calls her Flash, cause she’s gone so fast. Tomorrow should be the peak. I like this, I’m clean shaven for the first time in years, wearing my uniform, meeting fascinating people.

            I’ve got a fire going. Geezer barks savagely at a possum or something. We see lot’s of deer, and birds: turkey, crow, buzzard, blue jay, hawk, pileated woodpecker. Sycamore reach from creek bottoms like ghosts to white sky. Deep green cedar glades flash by, fallen post oak and lichen covered boulder camouflaged. Tall loblolly pines in military rows, persimmon bark welcomes attentive eyes. Forsythia in bloom belies the season.

            As hill and dale fly by, glimpse of golf course or lake, river or canyon, creek or cliff offer depth if perception proper. “Backing,” Kathy barks honking the horn, “Board(grab the DIAD and enter information). In Back. Check.” “Clear,” I say, each time, repeating, “clear, clear all the way.” “Front door. Side door.”

            Each day I notice a couple of sediment controls on construction sites. But it’s ten completely without to one with. Not good. And it is ten tree jobs completely hack jobs to one with mostly good work. There is a correlation. If the root zones of all residential trees were cared for properly, the sediment controls would be in place already. Not only would mulch and tiering protect and nurture the trees, it would filter and retain runoff. This is profoundly simple, and yet enormously misunderstood. It is not about blame. It is about clean water. If you know anyone interested, tell them about this link.

            Looks like the Gates character from Iran/Contra is assuming power. I guess those weapons they got caught selling aren’t so obsolete now. But they caught Clinton getting a you know what. That’s a lot worse than funneling illegal weapons and drugs. Poor Jimmy Carter, Bush one nailed him with that little fact finding mission to Iran in seventy nine. Speak now people.

December 18, 2006

Father time is about to turn the page. But 2006 is not decrepid. 2006 will die kicking and screaming. And little 2007 will hit the ground running. 2007 will be very mature for it’s age come February. Long day jumping. Kathy and I are bringing the A game, rested and fresh each morning, haggard and weary by nightfall. Four more days of constant hustle, each a little tougher than the last. I try to spot Indian ruins in the rapidly flashing landscape when I have a few precious seconds. I grab my seat belt in my left hand to keep it snug. I don’t have to wear my seat belt because it’s a rule, I  have to wear my seat belt!

            Thanks to the Methodist church for the bathroom to wash the thick black ink off and use the bathroom. I like riding out on nine mile ridge. Hill’s drug and Spier’s are always a favorite. I’ve noticed a sediment fence at new construction sites on Hospital drive, and some decent tree work(along with more and more bad). There are bad construction practices on Lake Sequoyah, which already has a sediment problem at the far end, and up on Iroquois drive, harsh dozer work, no sediment controls.

            I want to promote riparian zones above all. If rebelriver.com could affect some positive change in that area maybe I’ll have done my duty. If cattle ranchers on our rivers and creeks would adopt best management plans as put forth by the Environmental Protection Agency and Arkansas Department of Water Quality,

ADEQ

maybe our impaired rivers would recover. It would also take strict monitoring and penalties for developers who ignore sediment controls, which is almost all. I mean a sediment fence is one thing, but they usually collapse or are inadequate. Go canoeing. You see things you don’t see from a truck. I need my winter trip. I also need to jam.

            And we spiral down. Around and around we go, where we stop ain’t nobody gonna tell. Shout out to the green monsters, purple people eaters, red cloud forest folk, the blues singers, black humor, brown belts, yellow bellied sapsuckers. Shout out to the lovers of the kind, the chronic do-gooders, free huggers and blind lovers, the tunnel fishing paddle boaters and rolling rockers, the dog stars and cool cats, hunters of joy, moonies of Amber waves. Forever hold your peace.

December 15, 2006 

Badda Bang. Friday. Thank God. Another crazy day jumping packages for my woman. Kathy and I have ratcheted up the last couple of days, spinning and spitting. Run and Gun. Whatever. Tired. People smile. I hope when I'm seventy I look as healthy and bright eyed as the folks in Cherokee Village. Good kind folks. I knew this when I carried their groceries at Warren's IGA in seventy nine. Hired on my sixteenth birthday, two days after we won state in Baseball. My mustang sure went fast.

I've got numerous people on the list to look at their trees. Starting the day after Christmas in Memphis, a week is booked there, then I've got a good start on January here, I hope to fill out the month tomorrow, and that usually snowballs into February and beyond.

Feeling good. UPS is always good for me. I've had to work through some injuries, and changed my methods a little. I value the job, not for the money, just the experience. Why would I subject myself to rigorous drug and background checks if not. Then there is the rectal exam. They snap those rubber gloves on. It's weird enough, then they tweak my nipples.

    Looking forward to some R and R, talking trees and checking out Cherokee ruins. Tonight I may hobnob with royalty. Tommy Bolt won the U.S. Open Men's Golf championship in 56 or thereabouts. I hope all of you have a good weekend.

December 13, 2006

Yo. Bushed. Long day. Little rest. After spending quality time late last night or early this morning in the company of a lovely young lady, I nabbed a few hard hours of shuteye. Then it was over to Ozark Acres to take care of that dead red oak I’ve been threatening to do. Spring River at Hardy swirled thick fog, stretched veils of silver and gray lifted, valleys dense, bright sunshine warming the day quickly as pockets of fog showed at odd distances. I only went forty feet into the tree to place a rope, but on the steep slope above awakening Lake Vagabond, I felt like I was up a couple of hundred feet. Suddenly, the deed was done, and I booked back to my home in Highland to shower and meet my girl Kathy Starr at Highland Square. I jumped in the truck and it was on. We hit the highway stops first, every other one has an old friend or acquaintance thrilled to see me. I hurry hugs, I can’t help but smile. Christmas treats are on display, we stock up on candy, sausage balls, and the like. On the hiway stops most have to sign the electronic clip board(DIAD), so I learn names of folks, gleaning bits of knowledge, realizing jobs of people I usually only see at lunch. Then into Cherokee Village it’s driver release, placing packages and remarking on the DIAD as to the circumstances. Kathy keeps me on course, if I get tired and slack off, she picks it up, if I daydream about ancient Cherokee trails too much, she snaps me to. Incredible pink and purple, pale blue and vivid tangerine, crème and sienna sunset cheered us wrapping up the pickups. Long day ends well, with a visit to my dear mother. Geezer danced for the dog treats I had in my pocket. Now it’s time to build a fire. Peace.

December 11, 2006 

Wet day jumping packages. I went exploring before and after, took a closer look at bent trees I feel are arborglyphs left by Cherokee. Inspected a dam I feel was part of the elaborate escape system. Valleys could be flooded to aid navigation, then emptied before aiding the enemy. Forest boulder must have provided shelter, protection, identification, trailheads, sentry posts….Sacred beaver never touched, otter pelts bought guns and ammunitions from French traders at Cape Gerardo Missouri. Near present day Kennet and New Madrid the Cherokee manned points of Crowley’s Ridge, a long island in the swollen swamp  of the day. Was the real Lake Thunderbird named from the swamps and rivers of the cache, black, and strawberry river bottoms and the probable prevalence of the ivory billed woodpecker? Huh? Was it?

This link helps me decipher things. 

December 10, 2006 

I am still in awe of what I saw yesterday. I stood in an old Cherokee complex. Canoe docks jutted like saw teeth in front. Five sided temple or cabin base. Trees bent and manipulated years ago to form pointers or totem. The Great Spirit flew above. One stone we examined in the brief time had been trod by Cherokee moccasin many thousand times. Stepping stones and hand holds prominent. I’ll try to post some pics soon. This world of discovery consumes my mind more than sex.  I can’t wait to post pics of the trees too. I guess it’s UPS tomorrow, we’ll see how my knee holds up. Tree work too. Get some sleep tonight will ya? Al.

December 8, 2006 

Cold clear morning in America. I couldn’t bring myself to try the red oak yesterday, the winds were incredible at dawn. Then running UPS I pulled up lame with a brand new injury. I’m hoping I can get through this. It’s totally by ear now, I went out this morning and jogged a little, but the steepness of driveways in the Village puts huge pressure on joints. I wore out a pair of boots, and some old basketball shoes barely made it. This getting in shape thing is rough. One more day, though, till the weekend.

            Tonight it’s Phillies. Van load of attractive young women. Darn. It’ll be fun, I take them canoeing in the summer. I’ll be the oldest person there probably, unless the two retirement age hippies blow in, so I’ll have a boss attitude. Chicks dig that. I like bossing attractive young girls. Maybe I’ll take my little paddle to keep them in line. Pull your pants down now! Bend over! You have been a very naughty little cheerleader. I have decided to take pleasure from you. I have decided to become your common law step husband. Sick I know, but it works for me.

            It’s like ten degrees. I love it. Real winter. Riding the truck. Bitching about the tree work. It’s what I do. Trace the Cherokee trails. Imagine the culture. Their might have been a school or hospital where Highland Schools are now. There are three different escape routes for children or invalids, over behind Highland city hall begins a run to Strawberry river. Over toward Timberline restaurant begins valleys leading to Spring River. Down the creek that forms the outdoor classroom would take them to the old village and Southfork river. Dragging Canoe was a famous chief of the Chickamauga Cherokee. They were from the old towns of Alabama and Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina, and fought bloodily the whites encroaching. Likely they might have founded Cherokee Village, even before the American revolution the buzz in the old territory was “go to Arkansas.” I believe as early as 1721 the old tribe had scouted this area, and began to build a village and network. They would have traveled at night, across big capes of the delta crypress swamps of Eastern Arkansas. Into the sun. The waterspider clan chose the location well, inaccessible, sacred waterfalls abundant, numerous choices for orderly escape and evasion. I’m moving along on a book about the culture as I see it. I’ll be posting the novel in progress in Rebel Word soon, and I’ll provide a link. I’m really into it obviously, and when I throw myself into something, like I did as a kid with baseball, or as an adult with trees, it usually comes off well.

            Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, I’m great. I hate bad tree work and wish I were a Cherokee in the seventeen hundreds. But how would I charge my laptop? I don’t think Ben Franklin had flown the kite yet. Cell phone service sucked. Yada Yada. Peace, ya’ll, Peace now. Peace forever. Forever hold your peace. Love. Serve. Relate. Think free. Be free. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country. Type that three times. Gotta go.

December 6, 2006 

Tired. Sore. We started over on Spring River in Hardy, fifty foot up in a pecan when the sun began to warm the frosty banked Spring River. Another pecan trimmed and back to Highland. UPS was delayed by a breakdown of a main truck last night, also the railroad construction in Ravenden, so Kathy and I were running behind all day. This was a new truck, so I had to relearn some motions I’ve been doing since 88. Handles in different places, seatbelt(oy vey) different. But this truck is much better, power steering, automatic(helps my girl out tremendously!) I’m learning to run again, each day I go a little longer, a little faster. My hip and hamstring bother me, and knee pain crept in today. But like Patrick Swayze said in Roadhouse, “pain don’t hurt.”

            Tomorrow it’s a tall red oak in Ozark Acres, then UPS again. As I ride I note new batches of topping, where neighbors used the same tree service to destroy their trees. Most topped trees are red oaks, dead within a year of the cutting. Some survive, developing large dangerous problems within just a few years. Thousands of communities have adopted ANSI standard, which specifically forbids this practice. It devalues communities, leaving a dangerous legacy for the future. Much of the problem is Residential tree services that prune trees like utilities. The difference between a utility arborist and a residential arborist is huge. Don’t take my word for it if you are a skeptic, research it yourself. Start with ANSI A300. If you don’t care, you will when a tree you own becomes a hazard. Enough of this, but it makes my blood boil as I ride the village knowing that ninety percent of the tree work done is total bullshit. The joke is on you(not really you dear journal veteran, you know to check with me) as they drive away with your check. At least get several estimates from insured companies.

            I need to jam. I think Mister Alvarez needs to make some noise. See you on the road. Git ‘er damn done.

December 5, 2006

D-Day. I think. Consider this: if Steven Wright fell off a couch in mid town Manhattan at the exact same moment Silent Bob flapped his arms like a circus seal in Van Nuys California would Gloria Steinem spill a drink and electrocute Rob Riener? What if MADONNA stabbed HEART? What if PAT BENATAR hit STYX? I made a Myspace page. I forgot to list DRAIN STH  as one of my favorite bands.  It’s kind of cool, I’ll slowly get it up to speed. I’ll give you the link when I’m ready.

            Big day. But I have a confession to make. I was wrong. I regret to inform you that I was wrong, bad wrong. I told you yesterday that I was to prune two box elders. One was an ash. Tall persimmon held stiff and sure fifty feet above Spring river this frozen morning. We got it trimmed, and tough removal that became a drop crotching,(it was extra work, but I figured it was worth it to save the tree, it was in a crucial spot to protect the house from flood damage). The homeowners will be in from Little Rock soon to inspect the work. Bryan broke the key.

            Then it was home to grab an egg sandwich and change to UPS brown. I tuck my hair up and run steep driveways. Today was long and tough, my old hip and hamstring tight, chronic pain of twenty years flitting about me as I turn and run, posture and core balance essential. The route is still the same as 88. I get warmed up around Wyandotte drive. Town center is less running, a mid route break of sorts. Then we hit Flathead, and the labor warms me again on sunny driveways. Winnebago is a watershed, once we finish the street, I’m over the hump, though Lake Omaha and The South Golf Course sometimes after dark, are a grueling grind oft times. We set the record, three hundred and ninety nine packages one Christmas eve, but that was fifteen years ago. I could full court press for an entire game and into overtime. I often did.

            This makes me really appreciate Mountain Biking. I don’t get his kind of pain. I can get in shape, but it is much more enjoyable. But it’s the job. I dig the gig. I can make more money in one day trimming trees than I will make all month at UPS, they hired me in 88 for ten dollars an hour and I don’t think I’ve ever actually made that. I ain’t joining the teamster’s and I ain’t moving to Pocahontas. I tried driving every day but that got old quick. Especially with that red headed floor boss bitch that I told to F off.

             All over the place I see stubbed branches. Blatant disregard for standards and disrespect to trusting homeowners. Only in extreme situations are stubs acceptable. Also I see trees raised ridiculously high, sheer defoliation much too harsh. A good arborist reduces some of the canopy, moving throughout to eliminate dead or dying branches, long pole saws reach far to lighten certain branches, branch unions are examined, branch collars are used to determine placement of finishing cuts. ANSI Standard. Proper Pruning. Ask your arborist about ANSI standard, does he grin sheepishly and offer a country fired euphemism, “aw shucks ma’am, I reckon it’s just cutting trees. I’ll do ‘em all for a hundred dollars.” Or maybe It’s “these trees are huge around. We need the bucket. We’ll have to spike it. You want the stubs off it’s double. We’ll cut ‘em right up to the trunk if that’s what you want.”

            By the way, “flush” cuts, cuts too close to the trunk or parent stem, while not as ugly and obvious as stubs, are still a breech of ANSI standard, and very harmful to a tree. Most reputable tree services made the commitment to proper pruning over a quarter of a century ago. Many, especially here in the south, still refuse to abandon methods long since discredited by science and research. I’ve seen quite a few come and go. They all pose and posture as tree men. But to be the real deal you got to do the job right. That’s not the case in my industry. That’s why I don’t have to knock on doors. See ya.

December 4, 2006

Bang. Just like that. Back to running. My feet felt light as a feather today running steep driveways for my woman. Like David Lee Roth shouted, “I want a run for my money that’s all.”

            Brisk busy day calms this evening. Tomorrow it’s a dead red oak in Ozark Acres. Then UPS. Then I got a rotten box elder way over a house, tall walnut(or is it persimmon, I bid it quite a ways back, I know there is a pecan in need of proper pruning toward the house, and another over the house I think is another box elder, I’ll fill you in in a couple of days, I know this is important to you, of great interest) over the house. Then UPS.

            So much I’m learning about the ancient Cherokee and women. I thirst for knowledge. I found the stone. The waterspider people and the art of orderly retreat. Big Otter, Little Beaver. Turkey. Deer. Pierce. Rock. Hurricane. Strawberry. Spring. Southfork. Wild Horse. Forty Islands. Many Islands. Raccoon. We all need a little beaver.

            My stage name is WARREN PEACE. SUNNY VICTORY  was already taken. EROSION does an acoustic set most nights, it really gives Mr. Alvarez(my electric) an edge, too. My J.B. Player hails from Seoul, Korea, so you know it can play soul music. All the great blues men started off in Korea.

            What else? Oh, this just in, using spikes to prune residential trees is wrong. And there is a standard, obvious and easy to inspect, for pruning cuts. This can be a legal thing, as ANSI standards are used in courts of law to define malpractice. The certified methods that I have used since early 89 are the standard. I have personally trimmed approximately fifteen thousand trees to standard. Trouble is, most tree services have never completed one job without breeching standards. It’s almost a gratuitous thing tree services do just to show whose really boss. ANSI standard. In writing.

December 3, 2006

Cold clear morning this Sunday. Fresh from an outing to Copper Feather to catch the last set of my Boys BACKFLASH. Hugs and smiles, they rocked me, I shook my ass, so did the crazy girls. They have this bandstand set up for girls to jump up on and dance in front of the stage, it get’s wild. Shout out to Hubert, Cheryl, and the boys and girl in BACKFLASH.

            So many opportunities, I’m so thankful for what I have. Health rocks. So many don’t have that. Blessed are the sick, poor, crippled, and crazy. Some struggle always, some never. Cyber shout to the Kind, the Chronic, and the Fly. Can Rebelriver.com stop the massacre in Darfur?  Can we straighten out Timor? Can we stop all violence in Iraq and Israel? Can we end homelessness and poverty? Can we stop prejudice based on race, recreational medication or sexual preference? Can rebelriver.com affect the elections in Fiji? Can we shape Venezuelan public perception? Can we aid the Nepalese rebels in some way? Can we keep Marines out of Anbar? And tear down the Jerusalem barrier?  I doubt it, but what the hell, it’s worth a try.

December 2, 2006

Cold morning as the fire dies unattended. Frustration, helpless anger held in check by positive thinking only. Uncontrollable natural selection brings red face shame alone in bed. Angst and wicked vision consume me; lusts and animal urges unattended. I must have my hearts desire. I cannot change that which simply is. What one man tosses aside another sees priceless treasure. One thing I have learned: relationships are not built on trust, that is a myth pretty people tell ugly people to get away politely. Trust should be there, yes, but the basis is sex. My challenge? Pursue my desires without losing all self respect, stuff the blindness of helpless rage deep down, know no shame, respect myself above all, make a fist with steady hand and hold it tense like Bruce Lee.

            I’ve had a good run for several years. Maybe it’s time to throw myself into something else, somewhere else. I’ve preached about trees and mulch for seventeen years, 99.9% of that has been wasted words. Still, nobody cares. Board members, aldermen, real estate agents, insurance agents, every other homeowner scoff at national pruning standards, all around us rip off artists make nice money. The joke is on. The difference is huge. Bad tree work is a classic example of leave it for the next generation, it’s their problem. When you spike and top and stub trees(neglecting the root zone the entire time), it will adversely affect the health of that tree, it’s just that you may not see it in your lifetime. Bulldozer operators tell planners how they will rip the earth up, allowing our precious rivers to become closer all the time to the brown of the Mississippi.

            Bicycle riders are nonexistent. Huge yards and burning leaves send free mulch burning away. Recycling programs are being phased out for no bid government projects to haul it off with smoking trucks. I care about such things. But I don’t feel pretty. Maybe I’ll just take a shower and go for a drive. Wal-Mart again? I’m sure there is an argument to boycott them, but you have to pick your battles. How about boycotting beef at Wal-Mart? And everywhere else. Yes, if all of us were vegetarians the world would be better off, and phasing out chickens would clean up rivers. But one step at a time, as destructive as chicken farming is, beef cattle ranches are many times worse. Partly because most times they defoliate pasture land right to the river’s edge. Ranchers must be forced to comply with Best Management Plans. The federal government could make the arrogant landowners leave buffer zones. But they would whittle away, bitter at government intrusion, determined to hack and shape the land according to their whim, ignoring or ignorant of concepts that put water purity first. Potential inspectors are busy occupying foreign lands.

            I’ve got to get busy getting rich. I need lot’s of money. Or lower my standards.

December 1, 2006 

D-Day. Maybe. UPS may not need me today, it’s a light day. I’m thinking isn’t there a kotex for that? Yesterday was a wild wacky romp all across Cherokee Village. I start off waiting at Town Center, awesome waterfall at Papoose Park inspires. Meditation, visualization, discipline… Then I jump in the truck and it’s on. We missed the massive winter storm barely. Just a light dusting. I use musing times on the truck to reconstruct the portage trail of the Cherokee. I try to see where the shortest route from the Southfork watershed to the Strawberry watershed was. So far I’ve got this-Navajo Lake is formed by damming a branch of Big Otter Creek, which flows to form Lake Thunderbird. Not far through the draw up toward say Pioneer auction the creeks reverse and head out toward say, Hill’s drugstore. That area would have an old walking trail somewhere. Also the headwaters of Little Otter Creek, which forms lakes in Hidden Valley before flowing to form Lake Sequoyah in Cherokee Village, seems to flow from an ancient systern/spring behind Highland Square. There would be an ancient portage trail from there or the Highland High School area(probably destroyed by recent construction, looks like no Best Management Practices were used, no riparian zones are planned, good example for young children-Highland powers that be actually scoff at suggestions that there are proper ways to prune trees! I guess preplanned green areas are a little too hip for the school board, maybe they could have researched it at least a little?) across the highway(it wasn’t there then!) to headwaters of Pierce Creek(the hidden route of the water spider clan) or Turkey Creek(flat water all the way to the delta swamp.

            How smart the Ancient Cherokee were! They had ethics, fair practices, and so much more. I’m not sure the greedy white people that we are made things better. This country is built on greed and envy. One man owning thousands of acres was a ludicrous concept to Natives. Someone spending anothers lifetime earnings to make a lawn was tantamount to slavery. Wait a minute, it was slavery. Human bondage. What is it about lawns that make Americans crave them? Status? The cookie cutter mentality? I mean we want to end the war, but if it means mulching half our yards no way. God forbid if one of our cities get nuked, we might have to give up beef, golf,  NASCAR, or some other incredibly wasteful, needless, polluting, rah-rah- b.s., instead we’ll just nuke someone we think it was, and start a wholesale invasion of someone our army says is evil. The children of those nations will be fine, though, we’ll make sure and air drop lot’s of baloney sandwiches.

            Thanks for the chance to rant, Journal Veterans.

November 30, 2006 

The leaves of November fall away. Baby December rumbles in the womb, cold breath and icy afterbirth awaiting. I’ll be in the thick of it on the UPS truck. It’ll be fun. Geezer snoozes quiet, one worried eyebrow occasionally noting cold rain outside. Last night it was venison at Debbie and Mike’s, Rodney, Garret, and Reva(babe!)

            Kathy Starr is on the road this morning. Soon I will board the truck and begin the job. I also have tree work to do, but with the weather moving in and the UPS gig, January should be busy. December will be busy. I don’t mind, I’m not hectic all the time, if I was it would burn me out. Burnout bums me out. Better to fade away.

            I’m thinking of paramedics, librarians, video managers, native divorcee’s, waitresses and congresswomen, all hot. Where are the original good time girls? The sensitive sluts? The lusty bar wenches? Grab your hooker paddle and let’s spank this town. Maybe the tale of two cities is in order. Two tales in one city don’t work. Small town. Wal-Mart. Alco. Used to be Magic Mart. I remember dimly the OZZY lyric in OVER THE MOUNTAIN—magic mart goes round and round. And it did, my friends, the public spins. Rough on a teenager. Tough when you are driving. That’s why I don’t smoke. Or Masturbate.

November 27, 2006

Beautemous day on Spring River. Big trout abounded. Geezer had an extra swagger to his tail, Garrett and Zack smiling. Mammoth rocks. I’m kinda useless lately, couch potato ish.  I need to go to Wal-Mart and be a winner. Yeah, go to Wal-Mart, and be somebody. Don’t let the greeter frisk you though. See who you can get to check you out. Welcome to the Hardly Smash Flat area. Film at eleven. We go to Eleven.

            Plenty of venison this year. I didn’t kill one, I didn’t even hunt. But all my homey’s got at least one. Deer are plentiful. If we didn’t kill some there would be too many. Really. That’s not just a spouting hunter’s rights. We have to thin the white tailed deer herd. Squirrels too. I shot an eagle! (With a camera.)

            Shout out to the kind, the loving, and the loving kind.

November 25, 2006

Yeah. Cool. Leftover city. And they say gluttony is a sin. Big day yesterday. I had all kinds of nieces and cousins: Lauren, Shelbi, Darby, Colbi, Hannah, Natalee, Carly, and don’t forget John. His daddy is in Iraq for the first year of his life. Don't forget the grownup cousins and neices and nephews: Allison, Brad, Garret, Shannon, Peggy, and Andrea. Cathy and Danny. Aunts. Uncles. Basketball. We couldn’t finish the game, though Barby(yes the real Barby) showed up(drunk again) and started whacking Garret’s car with a burning leaf rake.

            Check out the article in this morning’s Arkansas Gazette: it’s about all the people who oppose gravel mining, it’s like fifty to one opposed. Go figure, the only ones who support it are the big land owners awaiting contracts from the gravel companies. They spout the typical arrogant bullshit about how sportsmen just want to tell people what to do with their land. It irks them they can’t put fences across the stream any more. Ha Ha.

Here’s a quote from the article. Read the whole article here

Martin Maner, chief of the department’s water division, said farmers have traditionally cleared too much pastureland, right up to the banks of the stream.
   That causes erosion and leads to an imbalance, putting more gravel and sediment into a stream than it can handle.
   He also said the highest water temperatures on the creek have been recorded just downstream from heavily mined sites.
   “It’s like you’ve got an open wound and you keep putting a Band-Aid on it,” Maner said. “It’s not as simple as, ‘gravel is piling up here I’ve got to get it all cleared out.’ The simplest thing to do is don’t remove the riparian vegetation.”

    Thank you Mister Martin Maner. I hope Journal veterans get more quotes from you in the future.

November 22, 2006

Hellahollow post on the ground. This was a scary tree, three feet across at breast height, but thin shell walls a couple of inches thick made things proceed with nervousness. It wasn’t pretty getting branches from the roof to narrow it up. A new well pump directly in the way complicated matters. I didn’t want to hurt a nearby red oak either. Now all is well as I chill fresh out of the shower. I’m feeling large. Geezer and Midnite shared my affections, sensing my tension. I’m still kind of wired. Nice pile of chips. Good folks from upstate New Yawk bought  an old home on Lake Vagabond in Hidden Valley here in Highland.

            Now, time to enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday. I plan to do so thoroughly, without guilt or reservation. I need to tidy up, fix a fire in the shop, move vehicles. That’s about it. Maybe sojourn to Steven’s Nutrition, plopping into the recliner to rant at Ron. Ron. What a prick. But he can sink putts blindfolded from forty feet. Never met a waitress he didn’t shake down and humiliate, but he’s a hell of tipper. Ron runs a secret illegal offshore corporation from that little health food store, don’t let the unassuming, helpful patter get you off guard. He’s thoroughly dangerous. Don’t try to tickle him, he broke a little girls hand the last time someone tried that. Then he sold her some whale meal or something.

            UPS is calling me. They want me. They’re gonna get me. All of me. Why? Because Kathy Starr rocks.

November 21, 2006

 Busy day all over the place. We started deep on Spring River, white frost and curling mists lifting as I trimmed over the roof. Warming quickly, the day turned into a long one errands. Several estimates in conflicting locations. Chipper knives at Bailey’s Machine Shop. New helmet at Atkin’s Saw Shop. Wal-Mart. Subway. Sonic. Lindley’s Surveying. Rebel Station. Madison Auto Parts. I like that place, cause my Dad ran it for like forty years when it was Berry’s Auto Parts.

            Tomorrow it’s a huge hollow post oak over a house. Wish me luck. I need a paramedic. A blonde. We’re getting ready for a big Thanksgiving. I’m bringing corn, rolls and chrystal light. I’ll be making a haul on leftovers too maybe. This too will rule.

            May you all get ‘er done, ya’ll. Consider this, if the earth wobbled, would Danny Bonaduce fall down? Peace. Walk in Peace. Go in Peace. Stay in Peace.

November 20, 2006  

Howdy. Fresh off a mountain bike ride in these Ozark hills. I rode about twenty miles. I’m feeling it. Creeks full and flowing, deer jumping fences around me, robins chasing a hawk. Many fenceline birds: meadowlark, sparrow. Wonderful day on gravel roads. Stopped for lunch in Ash Flat, checked out Wal-Mart awhile(bought some new chain mending stuff cause I had several breakdowns.) But I kept chugging I ain’t calling for help unless I have to. I’m funny like that. Pit Bull. Tenacious D.

            Cherokee Village and Highland was the site of an Old Cherokee village for good reason. There is a sub-continental divide along these ridges. Otter Creek(Big and Little) flows to form lakes in Hidden Valley and Cherokee Village, releasing into Southfork River. Turkey Creek, with wide valleys(full of wide pools in living memory) and tiny cliffs starting not far from Highland High School(home of the Rebels!), flows to Big Creek and Strawberry River, eventually flowing to the Black River many miles south of the Spring River Valley.

            I’m starting to understand how important proximity to water was for Natives. Spain owned Arkansas, no swamp trees had been cut, water levels were forty to fifty foot higher than they are now, but it was a gradual backing up flood, each spring as the glaciers north of the Missouri River melted. Trickling creeks many miles from boatable water today might have sported flat stone landing docks for large vessels such as canoes up to fifty feet long as in great lake fashion. Standing flat stones identified clan.

            The primary village must have been where town center Cherokee Village is now. The area is too rough for the Osage to come on horseback. Isolated watersheds of Spring and Southfork river may have been difficult to find or use, besides the Osage warred with the Missouri in the north, buffalo roamed heavily in the plains inviting mush attention. The Cherokee  took just this little area, a small piece of the sun.

            And should the Osage attack from the north, with full force enough to defeat the Cherokee, the Cherokee could retreat orderly, short portages, or hikes to new boats, how many big poplar canoes waited on Turkey Creek? Women and children would hunker low as chosen warriors paddled quickly through canyon and lake, quickly now on Strawberry river, on like a serpent between rocky cliff and gradual woodland beach. Through the dense cane swamp (some still exist today), straight east, through myriad known only to them. Ivory Bill Woodpeckers and Carolina Parakeets filled ear and sky. Straight to present day Bono Arkansas the boats would beach on Crowley’s ridge within a day.

            And if things got real hairy, say Osage warriors came in boats up Strawberry River, blockading Spring and Strawberry, there is a forgotten trail through certain creeks, certain portages and dams(I believe these people used a system of dams to aid in escape, or hinder apprehension. ) Smoke signals or horns would tell the gate keeper to flood the valley just as boats took to shallow water, or if the Chickasaw came up a valley intent on harm, The Cherokee had the dams as weapons to flood.

            I believe the Cherokee here accepted other tribes in a sacred peace. Shawnee and Delaware joined, like Cherokee old hands at the deceptive white ways by the time of the American Revolution. Escaped or freed blacks joined the melting pot. Raccoon springs on the north golf course in Cherokee Village is the site of a peace conference of five civilized tribes. I believe waterfalls were sacred to most Native Americans. There must have been many in this rocky, watery world.

            THROTTLE plays out front. I’m burning DVD’s for friends and family of CRAIG. CANDI had an eighties party Saturday night, I took some Panadox stuff and Hair Metal cds, demanding hoarsely that Candi play them. It was just like the real eighties, Candy wanted some cutesy CYNDI LAUPER stuff thrown in. But everybody dug my RATT, DOKKEN, VAN HALEN, METTALICA, DIO, OZZY, KIX, LA GUNS AND ROSES, GRATEFULWHITELIONSNAKE. I love Candi, and Kristen too, ya’ll chicks rock.

            Tomorrow it’s a tall river white oak over a glass skylight, and an elm over the roof. Ah, Rebel Tree Care—it’s just right.

November 14, 2006

Night falls. I hear wheel of fortune out front. I hate wheel of fortune. I love Pat Sajak and especially Vanna White. Call me Vanna. I saw you in Playboy. And you still got it. You do a tough job every day and still raise Cody or whatever. Hollywood. What a joke. I don’t know what the joke is, maybe it’s a country song. Hair metal. I’m silly like that. Rubberneck.

            Big dead hickory down over in storm town(see journal last April). I’ll bet I hug more customers than any tree service around. I do what I want, I control who I can. I mean what I can. I have no control over natural selection. You gotta have real money for that.

            We got dead red oaks, and UPS on tap. We got work waiting for the last week of  2006, and the first week of 2007. If I can stay under control and maintain, things should work out well. They usually do if your head is in the left place. I mean right place.

            I saw where GM and Chrysler went to Bush to beg for money. They looked so cute, all perched on the front of the couch with their little notebooks. Bastards.

             If you are wondering how you can make a difference now that you have mulched your entire yard try this link about beverage containers:

            WEAKNESS FOR BLONDES is having a CD release concert in Little Rock. See WfB at the Cornerstone in North Little Rock this Friday, Nov 17 and get your copy.

        Look for Panadox backing THE MIKE GRAY BAND in Pocahontas this weekend. I’ll be dancing my ass off! You bet yours! 

November 13, 2006

Bright day in Cherokee Village. Typical Monday, the vines on the dead red oak slowed and aggravated me as I climbed up fifty foot to top the tree. Then when it landed every cut was a hassle because of the curve of the trunk and mud. We then went down the street(Cherokee Road) to quick trim a loblolly pine. Aggravation and pain dogged me this morning, every thing hung up or hurt. But I am strong. I will persevere. Call me irrepressible.  So much happening, I’m nearly done with CRAIG’s memorial DVD, and believe me it’ll be worth the wait for all impatient friends who lost such a treasure so sudden. I’ve got footage of Bull Busts, Craig battling wild horses and bulls. I’ve got footage of Daytona biker week, Craig, Tony, Danny, and the girls on the road. Plus all the other tree and cliff stuff  and slide shows shown at the funeral. Soon, I promise, and again, it will be worth the wait.

            I’m just a guy who climbs trees without spikes. I make standard cuts. That alone makes me one of the best. Nine out of ten tree services are guilty of legal malpractice each and every job. The proof is all around us. Look into it. And then mulch.

            Did I mention the huge emergency job last week before I went to Memphis? Massive post oak just leaned over one soggy morning. Looks like Ravenden Arkansas tomorrow, dead hickory. Booking for winter. Get on the bus. Last night was fresh deer meat, Cornish hen, and wild coral mushrooms. We usually have rainbow trout in deer season, too, because we hunt near Mammoth Spring, very near the river.

            Life is good. Life rocks. Rock is good. Good rocks. Shalom Ya’ll.

November 9, 2006

Beale is mine. Geezer owns Beale. B.B.;s door ruled for a while, now I have a bruisied head. Cops sit quiet. I rub my cheek. Lubitska rules. I went to the jewelry place. I’m headed to Arkansas. Time to hit the flatlands listening to BADLANDS. I’ll be available after Christmas. Geezer will be single. And that’s tough cause everybody on Beale wants to get with him. The cops want G-dog. Everywhere they sit watching. They never move. Randy watches. B.B.’s watches.

            And now I’m alone. Geezer fidgets as ZZ top plays. I’m just looking’ for some Tush. Now Aerosmith. I’m sick of them. Always have been, GITRdone. Whatever. Al;

November 8, 2006

 Howdy ya’ll. The dems won both the senate and house. Rumsfeld fired. Replaced with an Iran-Contra type. I’m caught up. Long lunch at Cozymel’s. 18 holes of disc golf. EROSION  was in house. Geezer fidgets hungry and grumpy. Smelly bitch. Sex in the city. It’s probably Rebel River Adventures tomorrow on Beale Street. Mountain Bike tour. Unless I decide to go the length of Summer twice. My body would sure benefit. If I’d ride a couple dozen miles every day, not a huge deal on a bicycle, I’d be a little more lean, fit, and healthy. I’m not bad, just not cut up like I should be. I mean I’m as good once as I ever was, front snap kick, right cross. Walking in the dark. Riding horse. Cat. Stork. Now Bill Maher. He rules.

            Looks like once UPS is done I’ll be here for a week or so. No bid contracts with the government. Just kidding. Harold Ford got beat. I think Wayne Long. Too Bad. Wayne is the kind of individual you want in government. Mr. Hustle. Hell of a hitter. Shout out to Terry Jamieson. All State twice. I heard he wrote a book. I do want to check that out. Me and T. J. run deep.

            I could do some huge loblollys by wires, but I could find many reasons not to do it again. Everything needs to wait till winter. I’m a thousandaire, though, I can weather this, I’ve got dead hickories and dead red oaks to get down. I used to dread having so much high wire stuff lined up, but now it’s comforting. Craig used to help me on some stuff, but he’s been near out of commission for six or eight years. Things spiral down. Peace. Sacred Unbroken Peace.

November 7, 2006 

Harold Ford. Is he black? He likes white women though, so I’m with it. Looks to be a long night of election results, but at least the negative crap will be over. Unless there is a runoff. Memphis is wet and warm, rush hour bustles. Geezer has established himself at the six, massive pit bull in a room watches as Geezer preens and prisses. Papa John is coming to see me. I hope the delivery girl is hot. Probably a guy. Just left Stringer’s nursery in midtown, I do jobs for them and the previous owner Sam Stringer. They recommend me. Looked at some dogwoods and miscellaneous. Tomorrow it’s over to Germantown and Collierville to look at stuff. I like looking at stuff. I repeat the standard prescription, (trees need mulch, I stand with my arms wide in a semicircle to show folks how big the circle needs to be. Most of the time it’s ignored. I’ll change the landscape culture of the United States if it’s the last thing Rebelriver.com ever does.)

            Life rocks. It’s Beale Street tomorrow night, maybe Flashbacks Thursday, I may do Karaoke for the first time! OZZY  or CREED. Rock the joint. I’ve noticed most Karaoke nights don’t rock too much. That needs to change.

            Cutish hookers abound assertive. Crack dealers speak furtive or loudly defiant just outside. And that’s compounded by eerie quiet, as if the hotel is deserted or fearful, and it’s sold out by the Church Of God In Christ(COGIC). Apparently not sold completely out. I got in cause I’m an exemplary customer. I guess the others had reservations. It’s takes a pimp.

            Roseanne rants on TV. I’m playing caps, shooting beer bottle caps toward an inverted lampshade. David Thompson and I played it when we visited every month for two years or so in 2000 or 2001. Not only was he the best groundman I ever had, but he could touch the top of the backboard.

November 6, 2006

Rain. Heavy. Consistent this Monday morning. We need it. We love it. We gotta have it. Raindrops are like diamonds falling from the sky. We need to conserve them. How do we do that? Mulch. We could learn much from the Zuni. They grow crops with very little water.

            The road beckons, wet and glistening. Have you noticed wiper blades last like a month now? Get an ice scraper, ya’ll, the persimmons are bitter. Here is the first song my niece Lauren(LaLa—erosion—live music) ever wrote:

“Pretty stars

In the sky

They’re like diamonds

In my eye.”

            I swear she could barely talk when she wrote that, singing it in the light of the stairway, gesturing skyward with one little arm. I love my LaLa. My sister Debby and I had lunch at TaMali’s in Jonesboro Saturday while mom attended her class reunion. Debby was recently listed as a business woman of the year in Jonesboro for her work for thirty years at Petal-n-Lace. The website is getting revamped right now, but I’ll have a prominent link when it get’s back up. Mike is coming off some sweet gigs, but the thirtieth anniversary OctoberFest was canceled because the recent flooding on Eleven Pint River destroyed Woody’s camp.

            All is well here in Highland. There is piddling and prep to be done, maintenance and Panadox. Geezer snoozes dry, Midnite skulks outside hungry. Midnite never meows much, too many times the cat has seen what happens to noisy blue jays. There is a big boom, and they fall to the ground. Squeek the bluejay nevermore.

Sweet rainy Sunday. Birds abound. Crows making sport, so many It sounded like a stadium full. Ducks on the pond, Geese high above. Meadowlarks bank with yellow wings. Blue Jays sound desperate. Peregrine Falcon cruises low and slow. Wren, sparrow, flicker, mockingbird, bluebird, warbler, brown turkey running with many grays. Turkey vulture circles, mourning doves in pairs. Bob white quail are mostly gone now, no one leaves fence line vegetation unfortunately, and with the resurgence of eagles and hawks they have more natural enemies.

            Did I see loons, shovelers, titmouse and dicksissel? Did I see a goatsucker? I doubt it, as they are nocturnal. You might see them with whippoorwill, nighthawk, owl(screech, barn, great horned, great gray) snipe(yes, they really are a bird, and I’ll take you to hunt them for twenty dollars), and woodcock(often confused with woodpecker.) Nuthatch and Nadcatcher sound painful. I didn’t see a starling(quid pro quo Clarice). Towhee, catbird, tree swallow, chimney swift—I saw none of those.           

November 3, 2006

Yo. Is it 2006 already? Next month it’ll be almost 2007. Welcome to the nineties. We hurt some toddler squirrels today. I think they’ll make it. We made them a nest and gave them some mushrooms. One was bleeding. So many red oaks are dead that we’re bound to run into some. Hollow places, pithy and soft. With good heavy hardwood above. Recipe for disaster. Much of this trouble with the urban forest could have been prevented with proper root zone maintenance, proper pruning, and prevention of injury by heavy equipment. It takes years, even decades to kill the tree, but cumulative stresses eventually progress into strain, especially in red oaks. We took three down today. Cut them up. Somebody else is getting the wood.

            I’m yearning for a Memphis trip. I need it. I feel funny in Autumn. Change of seasons and all that. I think I’ll go by myself this time. Tammy is heading to San Diego to see Joey graduate from basic training. Chelsea is going to, if she doesn’t make the plane land in Texas for some reason. Comments will be taken seriously Chelsea. I don’t think California is ready for Chelsea. They’ve never seen anyone like her. Moron this someday.

            Save the planet. Mulch. Take care of yourself. I love you. Both of you. Say that in Chinese three times.

            Five years ago the fine folks from Ohio that we worked for today fed us big slabs of trout fillets and all the fixins. Today they put on quite a spread also. Yankee hospitality at it’s best. Cyber shout out to my little girl Candy, responsible for the Myspace link in honor of her dad Craig. You are the shizzle Candylicious. Caio baby.

November 2, 2006

Chill night came quick. Geezer and Midnite fed, central heat working fine. Need to get these boots off, but I’ll probably hit the shop once more, cover equipment, lock things up. Long day trimming, removing, and landscaping. We started before eight, efficient and brisk, removing a maple over the house, and random pruning of cherry, box elder, walnut and maple. Then over to Highland, mulching a dogwood by a large lightning struck post oak. Then another load of black mulch to Lake Thunderbird, two large redbuds and a dogwood. Then we moved a foosball table.

            Late lunch at LouJo’s on the Green was enjoyable. I’ve got chicken broth to cook with, I dig it. My house is pretty clean for me, I’ll probably clean a little more before I drop the boots. First the right one drops, a minute later the left.

            I ordered a BADLANDS DVD and CD. One of my favorite bands, they only had three albums at the tail end of hair metal, lead singer Ray Gillen(deceased), and guitarist Jake E. Lee. The self titled debut album Badlands is a piece of rock history etched into my psyche. Check it out sometime. BADLANDS.

            I may help a lady from the Arkansas Gazette write a piece on trees and reasons they die or something I’m not sure. Shout out to the humble, the kind, the charitable and missionary, the evenhanded and fair. Yours is the kingdom of heaven, and that kingdom is now. You walk with Karma, Brahma, Yahwa, great spirit, and love. Take this key to the door, your inner activist smiles with mirth. You will do great things each day, even if mustering a smile is all you can do. And you will like it. Stand under?

November 1, 2006

Fabulous fall day landscaping and foraging coral mushrooms. I love them. I can’t get enough. We gather gallons from the woods by Old Cherokee sites. Rinse them, roll in egg and flour, fry in butter. Awesome. MIKE killed two deer the other day. He was dragging one out and shot another. Garret missed it. I can’t wait to turn them on to the mushrooms I froze. Never noticed the forest floor with such detail.

            And the colors! Breathtaking autumn in Arkansas. Flaming yellow hickory a favorite. This morning I landscaped on Biggers Bluff above Hardy. The view was incredible. Forest colors along Spring River. I planted a beautiful red dogwood, and gave it an oversized mulch shape for the benefit of the mature red and white oaks on either side. I’m coming back for trimming in January. Then it was over to Cherokee Village for more of the same, the mulch yard here, Camp’s Nursery, may close for the season soon so I’m mulching like crazy right now.

            Tomorrow it’s a walnut over a patio and house, a maple over the house, and misc pruning around the eave of I believe ash, hackberry and maple. We may head into Cherokee Village for some dead red oak action. I’ve noticed lot’s of stubbed branches in prominent locations. What a slap in the face for the real estate agent or homeowner who hired the trimming. Obvious legal malpractice, and still they call them over and over. Pathetic.

            Fire orange in reflection. Cleaning up after the feast. Coral Mushrooms are God’s food.

October 31, 2006 

Boo. Be glad mortals that my alter ego KILL is safely locked away deep in my phyche. He’s a spoiled male chauvinist rock star that takes no prisoners and leaves no hotel room pure. KILL, BURN, PILLAGE and RAPE, along with a revolving cast of bass players like LOOT, AQUAINTANCE RAPE, STATUTORY RAPE, VIOLENT RAPE, and GAY RAPE. We even hade a contest where you could date rape. I’m not kidding, Halloween for me in the late eighties and early nineties was insane. I used to make out a will every year before Halloween. Bit’s and pieces are on video, it’s called Best of KILL. Not available yet. I’ve still got to have a reunion with Burn and Pillage before I can legally show it in public. They have this whole platoon of lawyers after my ass for over a decade now. I’m probably screwing up even talking about it.

            More good mulching this rainy morning. Beautiful black badges, crescents, circles, and dees. I don’t need a helper, it’s pure work, my mind is free to wander and plan. Mulch can save this planet, I’m telling you. But Journal veterans already know this.

            I’m gonna do some stuff with Rebel Word soon, watch for a link to a historical fiction novel I’m working on. I’m only a few thousand words in, no copyrights, so if I get ripped off oh, well. Maybe I will copyright it first. ISBN numbers and stuff, but there is this creative commons thing which is interesting.

            PANADOX has been busy, burning DVD’s, arranging documentary and tribute sequences. I’ll fill you in later. Lot’s of tree removals lined up, filling January with pruning.

October 25, 2006

Rain begins in Earnest Arkansas. Pale dawn claims overcast sky. Looks like another day of mulching. I enjoy the work, it’s safe, no climbing or sawing or chipping. A little weed eater work, a little wheelbarrow work, a little pitchfork work. The slope is steep, so the wheelbarrow drags you down, it helps my knee walking downhill, and the trip back up is pure endurance. I’m installing nice black badge shaped mulch areas around red oaks and a hickory in a formal landscape on Lake Thunderbird. It’ll be cold and wet, but I won’t cry. I just try to get by.

October 23, 2006

Fine evening to you. Dusk crawls slowly cross the Arkansas sky. I’m still wound up from a massive red oak takedown this morning. Topping and chunking, lowering, I used spikes to help climb up and down the tree, climbing spikes are fine for removals, never for trimming. The power folks helped out, then some firewood guys kicked ass splitting and hauling. The rakeup and cleaning detail consumed a large part of the afternoon, but that was okay. A tiny trimming job down the street of hickory suckers, hackberry branches, and a pyracanthea rounded out the day nicely. Tomorrow it’s saving the planet: installing spacious badges of mulch around some red oaks and a hickory.

            Success on the clean water initiative! Gravel mining permits were denied for three companies wishing to destroy Crooked Creek for profit. Hope that catches on, cause if it reverses, then we’ll go back to not being able to toss a match in a river without the water burning(that was actually happening in Ohio or somewhere back in the sixties or seventies). Construction-progress; it’s over rated. Lawns—over rated. How can we kill Iraq for eight years of Bush while little savings and loan scandals dump their red mud runoff into public rivers. Because they think they own the river. They think the river is a thing to screw for money. I don’t have a financial incentive for these rants. Anyone who tries to discredit or confuse the issue does have financial motives. They hate the EPA. I like the EPA. Without the EPA(Environmental Protection Agency), we would be in a sad state indeed. The only way developers and ranchers are going to stop screwing the river is by force. Take our rivers back!

            REPORT RIVER POLLUTION! CLICK HERE!

October 21, 2006

Long day winding down as the Cardinals play. Hard lemonades sinking well. I spent my Saturday trimming hickory, bur oak, hackberry, ash, persimmon, weeping holly, purple plum, etc… Jason chipped it up and raked, detailing the cleanup with a blower. A little radiator trouble, a fire side visit with two lovely young women. Tammy is coming. We have a party to attend, maybe two. Big job for Monday, then off to Mympho prolly.

            Tammy brought Taco Bell. We might just chill. I hope you all are well.

October 20, 2006

Fine afternoon in Cherokee Village. We were high profile, on the North Golf Course, and Cherokee Road traffic kept honking and honking. They know me here, I don’t bother putting up yard signs, my sign is on my chest each day, Rebel Pride. Red tanktop.

            We cleared a prominent corner of nuisance saplings, spacing specimens just so, featuring dogwood clumps, leaving a little sumac, a little sassafrass, lot’s of flaming gold hickory, a few elm and hackberry, lot’s of sturdy white oak. Also I got suckers of five larger oaks in the yard. A nice half day, tomorrow it’s just down the street to a house both on the North Golf Course and Southfork River. Then tomorrow evening I’m invited to a lingerie party with beautiful young ladies. My tie dye toga/kilt will be a hit. Also a large party with lot’s of women. Tammy is going to be so happy. We’re on our way to the Little Greek Café in Hardy, Tammy’s been to Europe, and never let’s me forget it. It’s cool though, she remembers what I like, and knows how to pronounce everything. Ariverdici.

October 19, 2006 

Rain. Restless and pure. Again. Again I postpone the day. Again I will sweep the shop and organize. Again I will cook and clean. I’ve installed a cassette player in the old truck, it’s nice now, you don’t hear all the rattles, just good old metal. I’m getting the shop ready for winter. It’s nice in winter with the big wood furnace.

            Also Panadox has been busy burning DVD’s and tweaking visuals. Rebel Tree Care is stomping at the bit(I think the phrase is chomping, but I like stomping). Four mornings in a row now the rain has kept us down. One afternoon we could have done something, but blew that off too. If tomorrow’s clear we can still get a week in by Saturday.

            Geezer lays inside, arching a worried eye when harder sheets of rain hit the tin roof. All is well once again.

            Alex Shigo passed away. For those not in the know, he was a great treeman, author of A NEW TREE BIOLOGY. I’ve read that book three times, it shaped my philosophy of trees. The work involved in his life of dissecting trees and reading the history, developing scientific methods. Whenever I cut down a tree I count the rings to find out the age, in the process I see what years it was burned or stressed, whether it grew fast or slow, etc. Understanding how improper pruning causes stress and mechanical failure, strain. Rest in peace Dr. Shigo, you have done your job well, and so much more.

October 16, 2006

Rain. Heavy, persistent. I bet James Ranch is muddy. Saturday Night was perfect. My three favorite bands, my girls Tammy, Debby, and LaLa to tend the fire for. I danced, nay, vibrated in my BOB MARLEY shirt and white Michael Jordan jacket. Geezer sold glo sticks and kicked a huge retriever’s ass, that was the only fight. Geeza’s a playa, ya’ll.

            THE MIKE GRAY BAND was fresh off a gig with BILL RICE, ASCAP’s record holder for hits. Also rock’n’roll hall of famers SONNY BURGESS and the PACERS. Not to mention the incomparable EL BUHO. ALEX LYNCH of CHILLYROSE filled in at he last minute on drums for JOHN BROWN,  and it was on. MIKE, WILSON, MARK ripped into a mostly original set, with LAUREN appearing frequently to caterwaul pretty. Then CHILLYROSE  took over rakish and quick, I was bouncing quite good by then. When they appeared in the last two BLUE COLLAR JAMS I was too busy to enjoy it properly. Saturday I popped a few tops and focused on my selfish enjoyment.

            WEAKNESS FOR BLONDES stood tall on that beautiful spacious James Ranch Stage till several wee hours had rolled down. The crowd was scattered and slow by the time they finished. Fires now pushed up tight and compact, Tammy burrowed deep undercover in the van. I sat with sound man extraordinare KEVIN ENNIS way late. We may collaborate on a Panadox project very soon. Grayness to the east bade me crawl in with Tammy, instantly deep asleep. We went exploring the next day.

            Panadox went well, first time on that stage. I’ve got some pictures I’ll try to post on the Erosion or Panadox links if they took. Say this slowly. Life Rocks. Now say this Life Rocks. Now this Life Rocks.

October 13, 2006

Absolutely awesome Friday here on Spring River. Maynard and Geezer wander. I went ahead and worked on Friday the thirteenth. Freddie and Jason haven’t got me yet. Woodpeckers yelp, tarantula’s crawl, Cottonmouth suns, leeches suck lifeless blood undulating, pulsing in utter consumption. Somebody pass the salt. Banjos play over yonder. Wolves will howl tonight, insane yapping coyotes or blood curdling psychotic red wolves. Panthers seethe watching, bobcats piercing scream. Great gray owl says, “who, whoo, whoo...” Turkeys glide quiet to roost, buzzards land one by one in a great oak.

            Even now in mid afternoon crickets chirp from forest shadows.  Last night was twenty five degrees. Chill breezes sweep rustling young oaks, thin scarlet dogwoods, dull yellow elm, flaming gold hickory. Cedar spikes stand rigid, bending a little to wave green tips slightly.

            Purple spears I call them wild phlox erroneously. Big green spears with crabgrass on steroids cups. Yellow I believe milkweed hosting a honey bee. Tan lined butterfly sampling many tiny subtle flowers. Yellow tiny sunflower looking buttercups. Tall white weeds resembling babies breath. Cherry bark mottled in shade. Blue jays squeak, crows caw, and some large bird of prey with a strange sound. Rock Creek bubbles and roars. Hackberries ripening. Serviceberries still in pale green clumps.

October 11, 2006

Fine cool evening in Rebel country. Crickets chirp melancholy. This morning was a little cool, although I still wear a sleeveless wife beater tee shirt in the mornings. I’ve got some new red Rebel Pride shirts on order. We took down a post oak over a house, a hollow red oak over a house, and trimmed an absolutely massive red oak, relieving it of a dead side trunk. I had to haul the big husky up to make some cuts. Without spikes the positioning is difficult, takes core strength, endurance. Tomorrow it’s a massive dead red oak in Cherokee Village. Then mulching some others in various shapes. Badges of protection. 

    Remember the wasps? They heard I was coming, because they were gone yesterday. I got the big post oak done. It was a highway job; people stopped and told me to come see them. I prefer phone calls, but many of my jobs are neighbors, watchers, or lunchers. I eat at Timberline restaurant almost every day, and almost every day I get a lead on a potential job.

            Memphis is in the works next week. Plenty of work lined up the week after that. Plus I’m working on filling January up. I’ll probably do UPS again, that will fill up December. Why do I subject myself to the rigorous drug and background tests each fall for a pittance of my normal income?  Because Kathy Starr rocks. We set the all time record, as I’m sure Journal veterans remember. So merry Christmas ya’ll.

READ A POST BY ME(AND REPLIES) IN A COOL FORUM!

October 9, 2006 

Howdy folks. Good Rebel Tree Care down the hatch this morning. Couldn’t finish, though, hundreds of baby wasps are pissed. I didn’t see any as I topped and limbed the near dead post oak, but after lunch there they flew, riled and circling toward parking lot bound humans. I’m gonna get their asses early in the morning. Wish me luck. Arrevaderci. Whatever.

            Congrats to the St. Louis Cardinals winning the division title then knocking off the San Diego Padres in the first playoff round. Now they head to New York for a tough series with the favored Mets.

            CyperKudos to the Arkansas Razorbacks defeating number two Auburn. What a win for the young Hogs.

            Look for Panadox in Salem Arkansas this afternoon, shooting a new documentary tentatively titled The Spirit of One. It’s about a young linebacker/fullback in seventh grade. My nephew Slade Williams is the star. He rocks.

October 5, 2006

Day off. Yesterday was a hot ass afternoon. I did a lite roof clearance on this huge hackberry. Excellent help. It was pushing ninety five then, this afternoon it looks to top out at seventy or so. Go figure. I need a bike ride, I need to jam, I need to continue my new novel-in-progress tentatively titled WATERSPIDER. That covers Rebelriveradventures, Erosion, and RebelWord. Rebel Tree Care will be busy writing estimates for lightning struck trees and lining up work for January. That leaves Panadox, look for visuals at the James Ranch Show October 14. This is an incredible festival in the works, for five bucks you’ll get free camping, three high caliber bands with the music starting early evening Saturday and continuing till dawn or so. It don’t get no better, so you better get your asses to James Ranch this Rocktober. I may do a float too, yes I will. The Eleven Point River is sweet indeed. I can’t find Midnight, my new kitten. Oh, well. May have to pop some blue jays. All is well in my space.

October 3, 2006 

Run –n- Gun. Assholes and elbows, baby I party to win. I’m self absorbed. It’s like I’m this rock star but only in my head. Nothing relaxes me like imagining a basketball on an arc straight up across the sky, merging perfectly with the sun before swishing. Hush claims the crowd. I lost at horse last week. Ron the stroke meister. Asshole. But like he said, I shoot Pippen-ain’t-easy’s and Legalize-Kemp’s. I shoot hippy-drifters and even left handed burn-out-fadeaway. A Pippen-ain’t-easy is left handed dribble, left handed jump stop and left handed scoop lay up off the glass. You don’t have to call backboard on a Pippen-ain’t-easy or a Legalize-Kemp. A Legalize-Kemp is a right handed jump stop dunk style layup off the board. A hippy-drifter is dribbling left handed, turn around fadeaway right handed jump hook. A left handed hippy-drifter is off the charts good for a right handed shooter. I’ve attempted only a few in closed practices. A burnout-fadeway is the same as a hippy-drifter except quicker, further out, and higher arching. Kind of like the drano is a seventeen foot jumper with regular arch. But the rainbow-child is a top of the key ceiling duster. My love-shack is a funny move.

            Back to the serious business of healing the planet. It’s the water.

            We’re kind of like Caligula and Nero and that bunch. Basically fiddling and diddling while our house burns. There is a Greek motto I can’t find, that says something like, “as go the frogs go the population.” So true. Salamanders are like the canary in the coal mine. And guess what? They are dead.

            I got nothing against cattle farmers and river developers personally. Probably some of my dearest friends are sediment control ignorers. If I were in a different line of work(I have a degree in computer programming you know), I would have no idea about this stuff. But being into trees has made me appreciate what a natural root zone does for a tree, and in turn what a grouping of natural systems can do to stabilize and filter(riparian zones).

            Just a little care by developers and ranchers would do much. Now that the quarter century flood is gone, maybe tiering and burming, riparian perimeters, green smart corridors to live in harmony with wild flora and animal. Property values, which I feel drive the quick permit culture, would be even higher with oak and dogwood forest where hay fields now buffer nothing.

            Just a little care. I mean this should be serious business. It looks that without so much as scanning an EPA pamphlet on Best Management Practices a developer can pretty much wreak havoc with extraordinary resource waters and little consequence ensues for now. I know in Memphis they had a big problem with erosion clogging sewers. You can see where the recently logged hills above Hardy clog the ditches with red clay runoff.

            A developer was fined a hefty amount(probably a pittance if it wasn’t dropped), when inadequate sediment fencing collapsed and sent much silt into White River recently. The bust was big news. I want to get Chris Wallace on it, but he’s still after Clinton. I forget what Rush Limbaugh said about the hypocrite Republican that was Emailing the minor. Something about the Democrats did it.

            Tomorrow it’s a special job, for a special lady in a special place.

            Dead blackjack and dying red oak down safely and  cut up. Also chipped, along with cherry and elm. Blue jays squeek outside. I ain’t crazy. Peace ain’t crazy.

October 2, 2006

Crickets chirp in Highland. Trucks drone. Frogs clickity click and chortle. A tractor drones, headlights moving across the field like a mars explorer. Tired. Long day. After a full day of maintenance, we went and took a big post oak off a house. Then it was an incredibly large estimate taking hours. Chillin’ now. Boogie Chillin’.

            So many storm stories. One lady watched her guppies get sucked out of a tank into the funnel of a tornado. A buddy found a four wheeler upside down buried with one wheel showing on an island in Spring River and drove it away.

            I wish I had video of Adahi trail, it must have been spectacular when the water flowed over. I wish  I had seen the water spider rock, it must have been overseeing a waterfall and lake below similar circa 1776. Tammy and I crossed Strawberry River at least six times on a road ramble yesterday. Things are rocking along as we spiral down to the end of the world in 2012. Peace now. Peace forever. Forever hold your peace.           

September 29, 2006 

Howdy folks. Alan here. Nice day in Arkansas. How are things with you? We cleaned up a massive red oak blown down by one of the tornados. Then it was a massive red oak perfectly healthy, we trimmed it away from the house and wires. Small percentage of foliage. Still some major work though. I tied in safely at around sixty feet. From there I was able to move around the tree and limb walk wide for  proper pruning cuts, or at least close enough to jerk snags out. Look closely, does a tree service use a pole saw? Many don’t. Mine is a wooden pole sixteen feet long, light and strong. Each section of every tree has dead wood or green branches needing removal. I even use it to cut branches up to a foot in diameter if needed. The tree looks great now, and will for many years to come.

            After a not so great night and not so great morning for Alan Williams, Rebel Tree Care got to work and all came into focus. The task at hand demanding, the work strenuous, the reward self respect and financial responsibility.

            I’m looking forward to a river float if I get the chance, see all the havoc wrought by the flood. The biggest since 82, when the Spring River was up to the stop signs on main street in Hardy.

            Panadox was in action yesterday late, filming a wedding of a dear friend. I don’t usually say this about a wedding, but congratulations Bryan and Sue. I’ll have that DVD ready soon.

September 27, 2006

Finally veggin at the cribbage. I saw Hiroshima today. Shade tree resort and thereabouts was hit with a tornado. The way trees are ripped in half, uprooted, snapped, bent, split, splintered, etc., you can actually see the pattern where everything is blown north, then one hundred yards up the road it’s all blown south. Much of the area was recently logged, trees acclimated to forest broke and toppled. We met the power boys, took a couple of loblolly pines and a redbud down. Trimmed one loblolly, working eighty feet aloft, an elm got a little proper pruning too. Yesterday was a hickory and sassafrass on Field Creek.

            Lot’s of running around to do this afternoon. Everybody wants an estimate. Most of them just want something on paper for their insurance company, I don’t charge for it, but it’s a bitch sometimes. I like to visit with folks but storm times are tiresome. I’m keeping this load of chips for myself, my little path washed out. Git’er Dun Ya’ll! Peace.     

September 25, 2006

Monday. And it went like one. We got a good job done in Mammoth Spring. Easing out over Cold Springs Bridge bam, I didn’t see a washed out ravine and broke the wheel bearings and bent the right wheel rim of the trailer. I got it to Garret’s.

            We trimmed a huge white oak over the river, and two red oaks. Also dropping a huge red oak snag and a medium elm between the houses with rock piled on it’s roots.

            Remember that rain I mentioned Friday? Well it rained and rained. Ten inches. The flood wiped out a bunch of campers and stranded thirty people, many in trees. There were numerous close calls and a fatality. Spring River jumped up hard.

            I see where Fulton county passed a resolution to recommend removing the extraordinary resource waterway designations. Fools. Clean water should be a priority. The feds need to move in. If we weren’t policing the world we might have a chance here at home. Politics is manipulated by a few key evil people on all levels. But the poor don’t vote, so they get screwed. Joe bulldozer is told to level out a field so hay can be cut smoothly, no mention is made of tiering or burming as outlined in Best Management Practices. That’s Gubmint intrusion. Cattle farmers want their fields right to the river’s edge, it looks better, like the old south meets the rockies. Riparian(buffer) zones (as described in the Best Management Practices) are a nuisance, hides the expansive wealth from potential real estate developers. Who will rip the fields up, never using Best Management Practices, allowing fresh clay and loose soil to wash into the river, clogging gills of sensitive aquatic animals, settling on gravel bars(filters) to clog and provide rooting for opportunist weeds. When is the last time you saw a clear gravel bar on Spring River? Other than some mowed or weed eaten, there are none. Opponents of these Best Management Practices invariably have a financial stake in killing these clean water initiatives. Our only hope is that the Environmental Protection Agency enforces laws widely ignored.

            Mike Beebe is headed to the governor’s house. He’s sold out, screwing the Native Americans in Oklahoma for Tyson and Big Chicken. He’s whoring us out, basically saying that Arkansas be allowed to pollute, that sending Oklahoma water tainted with Chicken shit is fine. He’s suing them for suing us. Probably the one inspector for Northeast Arkansas lives well six months a year in the condo on Grand Cayman.

September 22, 2006

Hard rain. Sheeting and intense, lightning strikes with percussion force, half a second later the awesome sound. Lightning hits the ground within two hundred yards in one direction, seconds later striking with the same incredible voltage, like the one that ripped up Mom’s tree, she actually felt it watching fifty yards away, within two hundred yards the other way. Long minutes white bank of rain sheeted, tilting a little probably when the tornado formed about five miles away.

            I wonder how many tons of sediment washed into the river? Why can’t developers and planners, small and large, allow small provision to contain runoff? Sure, it may be in some long term plan, some long coming finished product, some grand shining scheme, but what about the rivers of blood red clay each rain in the meantime? Are cattle farmers so poor they can’t cut a percentage of hay yield and leave a riparian buffer zone around fields? Boycott the sick food of your choice. Beef is mine. Too bad about spinach.

            Sometimes I’m surfing these Native American websites and they are like, don’t buy Wal-Mart they destroyed a burial ground. And I’m all about that, except I try to get tribes to at least look at stuff I find, and they don’t respond, noone seems interested. I ain’t crazy. I know the water levels were, as Mark Twain says, the Mississippi river at one time was fifty foot higher than it is now, and seventy miles wide.

            That would mean standing water covering the Arkansas and Missouri delta, Even parts of Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennesee long dry were long lakes, valleys flat with water. Crowley’s ridge was a long, long island.

            Cypress forest and impenetrable cane brakes on the Black River must have held myriad secret. Near the juncture of Spring, Eleven Point and Black or Current Rivers must have been a cape similar Cape Girardo, the largest inland cape in the world at one time. Black Rock greeted swamp weary travelers. With a thirty two foot poplar canoe, I figure old Cherokee could go from Hardy to Crowley’s Ridge just north of the Missouri line, there is  a gap directly northeast, one day trip. The next day might have been to Wickliffe, Ky. Open water welcomed, Osceola might not ambush this day.

            I ain’t crazy. But I am autistic.

            The Anasazi came here. On Strawberry river is a cliff fortress extravagant with archer shields and docking areas. Kokopelli is there. That site is endangered by some of the harshest sewer line destruction I’ve ever seen. The fact that that company is so close to any extraordinary resource waterway is disturbing.

            I email and stuff to no avail. I could try harder. Make myself a pariah. Whatever that is. How about I provide the link again and you do it.

  Lodge a complaint against a development near an extraordinary resource waterway!

September 20, 2006

Hey yo. Had a guy call in sick. Pussy. Just kidding, he’ll make it up to me. Trust me. We got it going on in Highland tomorrow then Mammoth Spring Friday. I like Mammoth jobs on Fridays. Literally in the river. Big oak snapped in half.

            MIKE GRAY has it going on. He’s got regular gigs at the Pocahontas legion, he’s got the Pocahontas susquicentenial gig with rock and roll hall of famer SONNY BURGESS, who sits in with MIKE sometimes. Also big time horn man EL BUHO is on the bill. Local legends indeed. Then October 14, MIKE plays a gig at James Ranch with CHILLYROSE and WEAKNESS FOR BLONDES—erosion link. Then it’s ROCKTOBERFEST—at Woody’s Campground on Eleven Point River. Mike played the first one thirty, yes, thirty years ago. I’m guessing wear your Halloween costume, it’s gonna be freakin wack. Plan on camping, because the cops will be lusting for hippy hips. Especially pretty ones. Get your damn groove on with MIKE GRAY ELECTRIC HILLBILLY ya’ll.

RIP Craig Dunbar---you are gone but you will definitely never be forgotten

March 22, 2006 

Word. Peace.

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