Vol. 115, August 27th, 2024 Published a day early online
The Weather Station
They get the news first on the mountain, way up at thirty five hundred feet.
Summer’s winding down.
The blueberry leaves are blazing red, next to the green of the spruce, a prelude to Christmas. I wandered through the late season wildflowers: aster, Queen Anne’s lace, and the first crop of goldenrod at the meadow. Another turn through the bracken, and my feet crunched on the dusty road, stretching into a blue sky, dusty in it’s own way. The streamlined clouds matched the 1930’s vintage of the nearby lodge.
Telescopes and blackberry cobbler had been theme of the night before, with crystal skies rewarding the crowd of tourists who showed up to look.
“Grew up in Long Island. I haven’t seen the milky way since 1954” a gentlemen said. Another looked through the scope, and asked if the target star was at “the right hand side of the screen.”
I laughed. “Those are real photons, buddy.”
The late moon rose through the woods, burning orange enough to make Smokey Bear growl. Friends old and new stood in the waning moonlight, talking for a spell, and then fading into the night.
I walked along under the sun, thinking. A monarch flitted by, heading south. There’s a nostalgia in the air–and the blessing of Now.
Halcyon Days
The gravel road by Big Meadows park climbs into the sky–or at least a nice day. The late August sunshine makes it special.
Quote of the Week
“When in doubt, tell the truth.”–Mark Twain
Happy Birthday, Mary Poppins
The classic musical film premiered today in Los Angeles, 1964.
Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week
“Lick” (hit). “I just gave it a lick and it opened right up.”
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
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #200)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: The Builders
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! Well, raise a glass and lower your eyebrows: the bookshelves are up. Yes sir, that’s a stack of oak and paper clear up to the ceiling, with multi-levels and newfangled adjustable shelves. (Well, adjustable shelves might not be new, but my ability to make them is.)
Even before the first curtains hung at the new house, I planned to make a nice bookcase. No stranger to woodworking, I’d been hacking away at lumber since the toddler years. But–practice doesn’t make perfect. Cutting straight is still a gamble.
My neighbor hooked me up with a pile of rough cut oak boards. The shop lights blazed late into the night. The saws whined, the planer sounded like a jet, and sometimes everything stopped while I stood there, scratching my head. “Oh, twelve and a sixteenth.” Shelves are easy. Furniture is not. It’s been a learning process, and something more.
We used to build things all the time: bookcases, railroads, and a new way of life. We were a nation of builders. Many still are. Some, like me, are stuck in between.
Sometimes I look at old furniture. That was hard to make. The ancestors didn’t have routers and laser sights on their miter saws. The coves and beads and carvings seem like a seashell. If you listen close, you might hear a forgotten carpenter, measuring twice.
I’ve been talking with today’s craftsmen, asking them how they’d do this or that. They tell me. People are generous with their knowledge if you ask.
“Oh, you might want to clamp the shelf so it stays put during assembly.” I wonder how old that idea is, although new to me. It works great. Now it’s carved in wood, holding up books about history.
I couldn’t buy the shelves I made. They’d be too expensive–and I’d send them back. “Missed a spot there.” Missed spots aside, they turned out great. They’re (fairly) square, look good, and are the best piece I’ve ever made.
They brought a few extra lessons along the way, mingled with the sawdust and smell of red oak oil stain. Things like how important tradition can be, and how easy it is to miss. The things we do today carry on a long line stretching back to the first time someone squared a piece of wood.
Most of all, it was a reminder to be a builder, not only a consumer. Things are so good now, we can order shelves from the “magic rock” of our phone, and have someone else put them up. Veneer used to be the fancy thing. Now, like a weed, it’s taken over. Convenience leads to cardboard. It only takes a blink to forget, and some folks don’t know the smell of sawdust. But they can learn. Some are experts. Some could be. We’re all builders, in our own way, if we want. Don’t forget it.
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh
Josh, your remarks today about the shelves are very much like what I heard in two Watch Wes Work videos on YouTube recently. I want to share links directly to those two videos at the point of the narrative of interest, for sure watch the entire video if interested, Wes is a very well-rounded craftsman:
1) On the subject of the nature of people, using tools, doing things for yourself and building skills - <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQqmrUKenlw&t=1187s> Mechanic Finishes Building Office / Loft.
2) On the subject of the "danger zone" in projects (this hits home for me!) - <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qz05N5xb42k&t=2058s> Mechanic Wires and Reluctantly Paints Office/Loft.
Your posts here and the videos linked all have a common theme. I hope there are more such threads which can be woven into a safety rope to hang onto before all of "civilization" falls over the edge.
Also, good for you showing the visitors at Big Meadows things they can see if they know how to look. Keep doing what you are doing.