An Eclipse Prep Nighthawk
Vol. 94, April 2nd, 2024 Published a day early online
Crescent Suns
Happy Belated Easter to all! I hope it was a day of renewal and inspiration (and chocolate, too!) The season continues to dazzle: first a profound spiritual observance, and next up: a solar eclipse. The media, as usual, has been going bonkers about it. For once, they’re on to something. It’s going to rock.
The moon, orbiting the earth each month (moonth), would seem to block the sun every time. Thanks to the tilt and “wobble” of the cosmic dances, though, it’s rare that things line up exactly right. On Monday, April 8th, things do. If you’re in the narrow path of totality, you’ll be treated to an otherworldly sight of darkness in the day. The eclipsed sun looks like an alien portal to another dimension.
For the rest of us, we’ll see a partial eclipse, which is nifty, too. Use eclipse glasses (not sunglasses) to safely view the sun as the moon turns it into a crescent. Or, pay attention to the shadows under trees.
For a cool trick, hold up a pasta colander above the ground, and watch the tiny dots of light, usually round, turn into crescents. Any small hole will project an image of the eclipsed sun. Notice the overall lighting dim, too.
The waltz of celestial geometry is breathtaking.
Solar Eclipse On The Way
Monday, April 8th, treats us to a solar eclipse. Check your local times, but it’s roughly from 2-4:30 pm, with max @ 3:15. Here’s an eyepiece view through a solar telescope at the last eclipse in Radford, VA.
Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week
Skiff: Dusting of snow. “We just got a skiff today.” (Let’s hope that’s behind us for the season this year.)
Happy Birthday As the World Turns
Irna Phillips’ creation first aired today, 1956, becoming the record-holding show for longest running time. Here’s an episode from ‘62
Song of the Week: “Easter Oratorio” BWV 249
(J.S. Bach)
This baroque masterpiece was first performed on Easter
Sunday, 1725. Let’s keep it going!
Quote of the Week
“Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.” –C.S. Lewis
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. #179)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: “Bee Jesus”
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! I hope you had a blessed Easter. Each time the day rolls around, a different thought hits me. This year, I’m impressed at how strong people are, bowed under their own crosses to bear. For the second season in a row, it’s been time to build them–wooden crosses for friends who’d like a special reminder to keep on keeping on.
While feeling a bit lost last March, my phone rang. “Hey Josh, can you build Pastor Joe a cross to carry for Good Friday services?”
“Sure, sure, I can whip one up in the wood shop in a jiffy.”
“No, you don’t understand. He needs a full sized one.”
“Oh.” I hesitated. So much to do, bills to pay, errands to run, I...well...It seemed a bad request to turn down, though, and I set to. Pastor Joe liked the idea of the mossy fence posts for lumber. “An old rugged cross” I explained.
A hush settled over the wood shop as I measured and marked, starting on the somber build, carpentry to honor the ultimate carpenter. I wonder what those little holes are in the lumber. The saw whirred, and fell quiet again. The pieces fit, the cross stood, and I stepped in front of it to size it up.
The silence was broken by a ferocious buzzing over my left shoulder as a third carpenter made his appearance. A giant bee, big as a turkey buzzard (or so it seemed), awakened from his winter nap by the construction, flew out of that mysterious borehole in the fence post with a whirrr. I flew out the door.
The cross tottered, leaned, and crashed to the floor, undergoing a “rapid unscheduled disassembly”, as they say in the biz, while the carpenter bee flew around the shop. I called it a day. I’m blessed with several admirable traits, but calmness under fire isn’t one of them.
The following week, after the rest of the bees left and the cross had the finishing touches, Pastor Joe received it without any more surprises. (I can’t remember if he heard the “bee Jesus” pun, but here’s to hoping not.)
It’s with a chuckle along with the seriousness that I build another batch of smaller crosses this year, checking the lumber carefully to make sure that Jesus is the only carpenter involved, and that all bees remain outside.
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh
Send bee suits and Easter stories to P.O. Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588
or on X @RealJoshUrban