Vol. 62, August 22nd, 2023 Published a day early online
Hay Time Again
The neighbors chuckle when I drive by in my little red car. It doesn’t fit the country. Maybe that’s why they gave me a few motorsports T shirts.
Somebody’s gotta help that boy blend in.
My Feed and Supply hat is too clean, but it’s getting there, and my boots are collecting an acceptable level of mud. Friday afternoon found me bouncing along the driveway in the same little red car, on the way to the gym. The neighbor sweated in the field, his lady driving a pickup truck as he heaved square hay bales in the back. Well, how do you pass that by? I parked.
“Jimmy says you ain’t a man till you put up hay” Becky laughed from the truck.
“A rite of passage, then”, I said, hoisting a bale.
So we picked it up and threw it on the truck, the hay scratching, the sun sweaty on a delicious August afternoon. Then to the barn, and then off the truck, cooled with an icy red Gatorade, stacking it high enough to keep Smudge the horse happy through the winter. Who ever said vegetarians were easy to feed? (I should know, I’m one. But please don’t tell the neighbors.)
Quote of the Week
“I believe that a scientist looking at nonscientific problems is just as dumb as the next guy.”
–Richard Feynman, quantum physicist
“Bully!”
Theodore Roosevelt becomes the first president to ride in a car on this day in 1902.
(It was an electric car in the age of Telsa…the first one, that is.)
Down the Rabbit Hole
For this week’s suggested intellectual field trip (e.g. something cool to check out), have you learned to play chess yet? Check out some videos online, visit chess.com, or snag a book. You’ll love it!
Book of the Week
Jonathan Livingston Seagull (Richard Bach, 1970)
The pursuit of excellence and the transcendence of the ordinary, as told by a seagull.
Summer In a Roll
Round bales sit patiently in the field under a clear August sky.
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 email Joshurban@protonmail.com
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #147)
Now in newspaper column format.
Late Night Radio - Kudzu
(Originally printed in the Altavista Journal, August 16th, 2023)
Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! A big shout-out to Tina from Altavista. She sent me a postcard of Bigfoot, asking, “If you saw this guy in the woods, what would you do?”
Well, Tina, as you’ve probably guessed by now, I’d interview him. Sit right down on a stump, offer him a fancy bottle of water, and try to get to the deep questions. “Mr. Foot, you’ve been the talk of the town for decades, the subject of movies, and even have a legion of impersonators. Yet, the attention seems one-dimensional: your feet. Could you tell us something new?” (I bet he’d talk about the paleo diet or beekeeping.)
If Sasquatch proved wily, turning the tables and asking if I believed in him, I’d have to plead agnostic. “Well, I’m open to the idea, man.” It’s true. I’m open, if for nothing else on principle. The imagination needs to roam, to wander, to have a little bit of the mysterious to nibble on.
Thinking about all of this, I took a Sunday walk. Storm clouds menaced from the west, the light grew dim, and two crows rode the rising wind with a caw. The thought hit me: Why don’t we have any new legends? Perhaps if we put our heads together, we could hatch something. (“Urban” legends, anyone?)
Kudzu giants seem a good place to start. You know, that vine that grows everywhere, introduced by the government back in ‘35 to combat erosion. Like many of Uncle Sam’s “solutions”, it got out of control, choking trees, covering barns, swallowing cars. Next time you see a kudzu jungle, squint your eyes a bit. Don’t the shapes look like strange green giants, about to spring to life when nobody’s looking?
A new story could go like this: “At night, children, when the storms blow up from Carolina and the maples dance silvery in the gusts, you might glimpse a mysterious form stalking up from the valley or back by the cornfields. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light. But maybe it’s a walking, talking kudzu giant, with hands of leaves. It’s said the young ones love pranks, stealing zucchini from gardens and leaving them on the porches of unsuspecting neighbors, ringing the doorbells, and running like the wind back to the jungle down by the tracks. (Well, how else does the squash get there?) The grown giants surely are more dignified, herding lost cows back to pasture and helping cats out of trees. But the round hay bales are another story. Why, did you ever hear about what happened to Farmer Jones back in the autumn of ‘87?..”
Yes, folks, we need legends, so keep at those tall tales. If not for us, for the children. And should you see Bigfoot, please send him my way. We need to talk.
Catch you on the flip side,
-Josh
Hay baling, Feynman, kudzu and Bigfoot all in one substack post!