A Presidents' Day Nighthawk
Vol. 88, February 20th, 2024 Published a day early online
Spring Patrol
It’s a crisp morning on the mountain, but the summer stars glittered a little higher in the dawn as I brewed the coffee. The frost is yielding, and the early sunbeams slant through the window, catching a jar of honey in an amber hello.
There! By the south wall: a trio of daffodils test the chilly air with the first blooms of the season. The frogs played a set last week on a warm evening down by the pond, with another gig at the creek. Peep! Peep!
Rolling north to Charlottesville, fresh off the mountain grade, I spied a hedge of forsythia burst into yellow bloom as if to cheer the slumbering trees forward, back to life. It must be working, because even high on the rugged hillsides of the blue ridge, the branches are starting to soften, turn a bit misty, budding into the slightest purple haze. The signs are subtle, but there if you look.
A buddy said his bees found pollen somewhere. The bluebirds are calling from the pecan trees, heralding the good news. It won’t be long now. Spring is around the corner. Keep an eye out for maple buds, and crocus sheltering by warm brick walls. Every day brings a new sign ‘round about now. Enjoy the show!
Happy Birthday, The African Queen
Released today in ‘51, this iconic Bogart/Hepburn film is even recognized by the Library of Congress for cultural significance.
(Snarky) Quote of the Week
“Mr. Wagner has beautiful moments, but bad quarters of an hour.” –Gioachino Rossini
Opera of the Week: The Barber of Seville (Rossini)
Premiering today in 1816, this stellar comic opera became a smash, and is going strong 200 years later.
Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week
Courtesy of Carol Stuart in Roanoke, this week’s word is Stribbly. “Her hair looks really stribbly today”– lanky and unkempt.
Happy Presidents’ Day
Monday marks the birthdays of presidents Lincoln and Washington. Here’s the General, imagined in a modern style with Photoshop by artist George Hardy.
The Nighthawk is a new old-fashioned way to connect, published weekly. You’re invited to write back, or just enjoy reading. Let’s have some fun! It’s a social paper! Send stories, etc to: PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588 or email Joshurban@protonmail.com
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #174)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: Cold Spring Water
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show. The ol’ groundhog took a sunny view of things on his special day, and I’m ready for spring, too. So are the honeybees. They’ve got good news, delivered by airmail.
They’ve been flying around on the warm days. All five hives made it through the darkest part of the winter. The bee yard is alive with the buzz of tiny wings, the first insect sound I’ve heard in months. The sunshine almost feels like April if you close your eyes.
I first noticed them on a beautiful afternoon in early February. Free! Free to fly and stretch the wings. They had spent the long, dark weeks huddled up in a cluster, wiggling to keep the queen at toasty 97 degrees. (And bugs aren’t warm-blooded.) But what were they up to, flying around in the winter sunshine? Nothing flowered yet. I’m a beginning beekeeper, so I set out to investigate
Walking down to the creek, I got an answer. There on the stones, and in the soft mud stream side, a bee...and another, and another. Dangling my feet from the old cherry tree felled by a summer storm, I watched. The creek flowed by in a stony winter voice, and the air was empty, thin. The cricket chorus slumbered on. But the bees arrived, zipping down to a damp patch here, a pebble there, and refreshed themselves with a drink (and according to the experts, to take a bathroom break. You know, typical bar stuff.) Hey, this round’s on me. I watched the tiny signs of life, imagining them a movie trailer for spring.
(In a theatrical thriller voice): The town’s all abuzz. Soon, the heat returns, with a double whammy of humidity. Guest starring the Gnats.
It’s good to see them gearing up for the show. The red maple will bud out soon, followed by early treats like deadnettle and henbit. Tulip poplar and blackberry season will herald the serious flow, and the mountain air will be alive with katydid song by the time the sourwood blooms way up on the ridge.
Maybe the bees are like the road crew for nature’s concert, setting up the amplifiers for what looks to be a rockin’ spring. It’s not just the groundhog. I’m excited, too. Got your tickets?
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh