Vol. 56, July 11th, 2023 Published a day early online
“Time Out!”
“Uh oh! Uh oh! Time out...TIME OUT! I think one’s crawling up my ankle!” The hot afternoon sun baked the bee yard, and as the leaf blower spooled down, the buzz of a thousand bees again filled the air. “Let’s see...uh...oh no. Ouch. Oh no, there’s another. And another!” Pine needle smoke drifted on a breeze, and the birds singing in the hickory tree sounded smug as I frantically rolled up my overalls, too late. Three bee stings were a small price to pay for a bountiful honey harvest, though.
You see, each hive is a stack of boxes. The upper “supers” containing extra honey are removed, placed on end, and hit with a leaf blower. The bees, far from angry, were dazed and confused, buzzing around, or congregating in the grass. I was dumb enough to stand downwind, over a pile of ‘em with baggy overalls. Three climbed up my boots, thinking I was a tree. Everyone was surprised that I wasn’t.
Once the commotion died down, the honey boxes were brought inside, and liquid gold extracted—spring and starlight in a jar, ready for a winter tea.
Taste of the Mountain
Josh with a jar of liquid gold from the bee yard. Ain’t it a beautiful sight?
Happy Birthday To Kill a Mockingbird
First published this day, 1960, Harper Lee’s stunning debut novel won the Pulitzer prize a year later, and became a modern classic.
Quote of the Week
“Let him who would move the world first move himself”
-Socrates
Down the Rabbit Hole
Tea? Coffee? I usually get whatever’s on sale. For this week’s topic of research, why not become a tea connoisseur, or coffee expert? (This homegrown honey makes anything good, though.)
Song of the Week
“Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer” (Nat King Cole). Dust off the sun and moon, and sing a song of cheer with this goody from 1963. The original lyrics were German.
Write to Us!
Welcome to The Nighthawk, 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. #142)
Howdy, folks! Previously on Dr. Electro: Miss Stella crashes her van into the middle of Ordinary Man’s speech. Electro tells him to “box it”, Charlotte and Lady Wilkes toss the shocked villain into a stack of stolen scrapbooks, and the whole gang leaps into the waiting van. Overhead, the footfalls of henchmen grow close as Miss Stella jams the van into gear.
“Left” cries Florence, the navigator and new appearance in....
The Return of Dr. Electro #33: Level Up
Preacher whooped, Electro cheered, even Charlotte smiled. The roar of an engine never sounded so good. Miss Stella mashed the gas, and hurtled towards a yawning tunnel.
“That should get us up a level” Florence muttered, peering at the map. “I just wonder what will be waiting.”
Dust and fumes danced in the headlights as the pink tarot van, “Fortunes Told, Futures 80% Guaranteed” painted in bold green, rolled up and up the underground passage.
“Did you get in a bit of a tight spot back there, darlin’?” Miss Stella shouted above the din, turning to Electro. “What’s that gentleman planning?”
“Yes, yes, Ordinary Man seems to be collecting anything that people value. Not so much in dollars, but in sentiment. He seems to want to scrub the world of nostalgia, warmth, fond memories. I wonder what we can do...” Electro trailed off, thoughtful in the chaos.
“Woah, OTHER left!” Florence shouted as the van pitched and rolled.
“Sorry, dearie. Always did get a bit mixed up with those ever since I was a girl.”
Another splinter, crash, rumble, screech, and the pepto bismol colored van skidded to a stop in unexpected brightness. “We’ve arrived...somewhere” Miss Stella observed, haltingly. “More boxes? How many does he have? I didn’t realize there was a city under the house.”
Electro peered through a dusty van window. The stacks of crates and boxes towered into the distance. Squinting into the flood of light, he blinked, and blinked again. What were the shapes standing, sitting, crouching? “Watch out!” he cried. The hordes begin to move.
“I say, these look like tough customers” Walter exclaimed. “I reckon we’ve got a rumble on our hands.”
Charlotte and Lady Wilkes un-holstered their agreement. “Let’s dance!”
“Wait! Stay in the van! I’ve got an idea. Anyone got a board?” Electro, surfacing from his thoughts, spoke with unusual authority. Someone handed him a piece of a 2x4. “Perfect! Now, Miss Stella, drive. Drive like you’ve got the jump on Nostradamus, drive like you’re off to correct Ptolemy’s astrological charts and he’s acting like a Scorpio! Don’t hit the boxes, but get close to ‘em. I’ll smack ‘em with this board.”
“What about the henchmen about to get us?” Charlotte asked, raising a pointed eyebrow.
“Scare ‘em a little bit, but don’t hurt ‘em. Now drive, Miss Stella!”
A rev, a lurch, a squeal, and they careened forward. Electro held the board out the window, and gritted his teeth.
...To be continued next week...