People
are always asking me: Hey, Jon Spruce,
enjoying the weather?
It
sure is pretty to think so.
In
all actuality, this is my busy season, not much time to enjoy the weather. This is the time of year when I need to rise
up the ranks, get my name out there as a contender for champion tree-hunter.
Spring? That’s when I can really make my bones.
And
it all comes down to flowers.
Funny,
isn’t it?
Years
and years of steady watching, months and months of mindful observations, miles
and miles under my feet and on my car and yet my whole reputation rests on
those bright, brief modified leaves we call flowers.
It’s
almost too much for one set of eyes but, contrary to popular belief, you don’t
have to do it alone.
Like
the old folk song says, help is on the
way.
And
the best help this time of year?
That’d
be the truckers.
That’s
right. The biggest help at this time of
year is usually found high up in the cabs behind the big wheels of all those
trucks making traffic here in the city.
I’m
talking about Bakemark and Aramark, Samuels & Sons and J. Ambrogi, Cintas
Uniforms and W.B. Mason, plus all the other gypsy pilots navigating the Philly
grid and barreling down the highways.
Best
set of eyes in the entire city.
There
we go.
All
set now.
This
morning, I dug out my old short-wave radio and, using a bit of good old
fashioned Yankee know-how, I added a state-of-the-arts wireless antenna, hooked
it up to these new-fangled Bluetooth headphones…
…and
then plugged in the two-way microphone.
Okay,
all I got to do now is find the right station, adjust the squelch and speak
clearly into the mike.
Jon
Spruce is back on the CB.
Breaker,
breaker, this is Jon Spruce over here in Phillytown. Need some assistance, boys. Who’s out there?
The
next part is easy.
Just
lean in and try to catch some chatter on the only free press left in the United
States of America: the citizen’s band radio.
Spruce, you old
scallywag. Is that really you?
Shiver
me timbers, that voice is a real blast from the past. That’s Goldberg, my old co-pilot. I didn’t know he was in town.
Alive and
kicking, Spruce. Surprised to hear you
too. I always pictured you still keeled
over in El Paso.
El
Paso? Oh man, I spent a bad week there
one night. Goldberg always did have a
long memory.
Hard to forget,
Jonny boy. What’s your emergency?
Need some
flowers for the blog, chief. What are
you seeing out there?
You’re a lucky son of a gun, always have been, Spruce. I just passed some willows blazing away in Penn Park by the river.
Willows? Goldberg always did have a soft spot for
willows but I don’t know. I’ve already
covered the willow. I need flowers, not willows.
Quit your
griping, Spruce, and get down to the river before it’s too late. You’ll thank me later.
