I met Willy while riding my bike on a rural road in central Utah. A thorn had flattened my tire, and after making a couple calls with unpromising results, I set out walking. Willy was 200 feet from me, so I encountered him soon enough. He was clipping a tree with an extended pruner that resembled long but awkward scissors. “Hey, how’s it going?” I yelled. “Huh?” Willy lowe … [Read more...]
The Voice of Local Utah