A man who lives up Caney Fork once told me he didn’t split red oak for firewood because its sap smelled like urine. He called it “piss oak.” His remark came back to me one day in September while I stood in my woodlot filling my lungs with the odor from a ton of freshly bucked-up red oak waiting to be split, and all I can say is that one man’s stench is another’s sweet aroma. 

In early April, a U.S. Forest Service office in East Tennessee’s Cherokee National Forest issued a memo inviting the public to weigh in on its recovery operations in the wake of Tropical Storm Helene. The storm had felled trees across tens of thousands of acres of the forest, the agency said, and those trees posed the risk of fueling wildfires.

A bill introduced by Macon County Republican Rep. Karl Gillespie that seeks to bolster North Carolina’s local sawmill industry has garnered widespread bipartisan interest for its potential economic, environmental and housing affordability benefits. 

I’d no sooner opened my book of Robert Frost’s poetry to start the morning right when Neighbor J drove up. A wind had downed trees in his pasture, and he was sawing one up when his chainsaw had gotten pinched — “Can you help me get it out?” A “pinch” happens when the tree trunk suddenly sags or shifts, clamping the saw bar tight in the kerf like gigantic wooden jaws.