A Queen July Nighthawk
+ A Call for an American Revival
Volume 111, July 30th, 2024 Published a day early online
Queen July
A bat or three circled out from the sycamores turning tight circles over the hayfield in the gathering dusk. I ducked under the eves of the forest as a katydid tuned up for the evening gig. The sweet air hung perfectly still, humid, living. There! The sound of change: a new frog croaked unseen in some swampy hollow.
I hate talking about the weather, but love observing the seasons. If the ghosts of Christmas are packed away in a cedar chest, the possibilities and memories of high summer float along on the Atlantic humidity that bathes the south.
Sometimes I forget, grumbling about sweating, wiping a brow as I pump gas, late on the way to the next job. Then I glance up in the hazy blue, and remember to remember. The clouds pile like half-formed and twice forgotten daydreams, summer things I’ve meant to do for lifetimes, or an echo of a beach long ago.
Moments seem to hang forever, suspended in the thick air. Soon there will be a crack–a breeze a little bit cooler than expected, a dry leaf falling–and we’ll reckon with autumn. But for now, Summer, queenly in her prime, reigns graciously. The new frog singing in the night is that final flower in her golden hair, and we sit in her court, awed.
Book of the Week
New Hampshire
Parts of Robert Frost’s 1923 legend are so famous, the “Elvis” of poetry, I overlooked the rest–until now. A cover-to-cover read is breathtaking and beautiful.
Wild Thing, You Make the Bank Sing
The Troggs record “Wild Thing” in one take. It hits #1 today in 1966. Cha ching!
I can’t think of another #1 song that features an ocarina solo. Frontman Reg Presely grew intensely interested in the phenomena of crop circles later in life. Now that makes everything groovy.
Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week
Chughole: Pothole. “Be careful on Fulton road, it’s full of chugholes.”
Chillin’ with the Peeps
Josh visits with the chickens, and they all take a selfie. #FarmLife
Quote of the Week
“I can’t recall who first pointed out that the word “explain” means literally to flatten out.”–P. Slater
Write to Us!
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 Joshurban@protonmail.com
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Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #196)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: An American Revival
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! I’m building bookshelves. Finally. It’s been a good six months of big talk. A funny thing happens when you focus on something enough, though. Sometimes it comes true.
A neighbor hooked me up with a pile of rough cut oak. Equipment showed up. Last Sunday, I sprang from my chair, the plans as planned as they’d ever be. Hours later, Bigfoot himself would have jumped. I walked out of the shop looking like a sawdust monster, fuzzy from oak chips clinging to my sweaty arms.
Hold the applause, folks. The shelves are still a work in progress, but: they’re finally underway. The same thing is happening with another idea.
You’ve read me grumbling about “the world”, wrestling with how things are and how they might be. Then it’s turned into goals to “brighten the corner” where I am, cloudy as that may be. Slowly, the idea is taking shape, even more ambitious than building level shelves: an American revival. One based on us, the everyday folks, doing what we can, with what we have, to the best of our abilities.
Like this bookshelf project, the idea runs the risk of being too tall, and getting stuck in the door. Maybe it’ll all fall down in a clatter of boards and sawdust. But...
Did you ever hear the story of the two shoe salesmen who visit a strange land? “How was it?” friends ask when they return. “Horrible” says the first. “Nobody wears shoes.” The second guy is over the moon. “It was wonderful! Nobody wears shoes!”
Kennedy’s idea of “ask what can you do for your country” echoes again in these turbulent times, rich with opportunity. A lone flag stands out, a good word carries far in the noise. The need is obvious. So are actions.
I’m starting with things I can do. So far, there are plenty. “M”, a reader and neighbor, sent me a thoughtful letter. It reminded me how nice cursive writing is, and how special letters are. “Pity most folks don’t use it anymore” I thought, wishing other people would fix things, almost missing the answer staring me in the face. Sounds like it’s time to scrape the rust off the ol’ penmanship skills, and drop a thank you note.
The fact dawns on me, and a natural act of correspondence turns into something bigger. If I want to live in a place that writes letters, write letters. Sad about the decline in cursive? Use cursive. Seems practical, sensible, and almost too simple. It also seems worth a shot.
The flag is flying from the front porch, and the lawn is mowed. I cleaned the basement yesterday. My attempt at wild mint honey iced tea tastes pure, but sure looks disgusting with all the dead leaves floating around in the brew. Any advice is welcome. Drop me a line, won’t you? Like the bookshelves, something is taking shape. Something to build, something to do. Let’s keep thinking–and talking.
To be continued...
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh