Vol. 61, August 15th, 2023 Published a day early online
Stars Fell on Bedford
Catching the Perseid Meteors
“How do they know? Is it a guarantee?”she asked.
“No way” I laughed. “If you think weathermen are bad, just wait for spaceweather!”
The chance of falling stars increases every August 13th or so as the earth plows into a cloud of dust left behind by comet Swift-Tuttle. The resulting Perseid meteor shower is often a dazzling finale to summer. 2,500 feet above sea level by a mountain lake, I set up a telescope and waited for the clouds to clear. The Weather gods smiled upon me, and waved in a soft summer evening. It was showtime at the Peaks of Otter lodge on the blue ridge parkway, and what a place for a star party. The Milky Way glimmered in a sparkling trail over Sharptop mountain, looking like cosmic smoke billowing out of a volcano. “Welcome to the star party, folks. Keep an eye on the sky. As rice-sized grains of comet dust slam into the Earth’s atmosphere at 40,000 mph, the friction and heat causes the gases around the particle to glow. We see it as a ‘falling star.’” And sure enough, we saw a dozen or so during the evening, plus thousands of stars twinkling overhead. Oooo!
Now that’s an observing field!
Happy Birthday, The Wizard of Oz!
The iconic movie premiered on this day, 1939 in Hollywood. Woodstock opens today in 1969, and the Mayflower sets sail, 1620.
Down the Rabbit Hole
VJ Day occurs on August 14/15 (time zones), 1945, ending WWII. For this week’s topic to research, check out some of the stories of the day. Do you have one to share? Write us, we’d love to hear yours.
Quote of the Week
“The simple step of a courageous individual is not to take part in the lie.”—Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
Mountain Bound
Route 43 winds towards the Peaks of Otter, and an evening meteor-watching party. The Appalachian mountains are an estimated 480 million years old.
Book of the Week
Cosmos (Carl Sagan, 1980.) The TV show is famous, and the book is mighty fine, too. You’ll love the journey from earth to worlds beyond in this best-selling science book.
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)
Hey there! With Season 2 of Dr. Electro finished, here’s a new column I’m doing for the newspaper. It’s a reinvention of Letters from Josh, running in the Altavista Journal, Union Star, and Casewell Messenger. I hope you enjoy as we ramble through the woods with words.
Late Night Radio - Taste of the Mountain
(Originally printed July 6th, 2023)
Howdy, folks! Welcome to Late Night Radio, a brand-new column. Ever hear that John Denver tune of the same name? “There’s lonely hearts in Arkansas, there’s truckers in Des Moines, all there to keep me company in the early morn.” In other “words”, this is a place to tune in, read up, and find some company, no matter the time of day or night.
I’m your host Josh Urban, and I’ve done a spot of radio work here and there, and even some wedding Djing back up in the big city. (I hung up those headphones after a bit, though. The Bridezillas weren’t too bad, but the penguin suits got to me.) Pulling a Merle Haggard, I traded the dirty old city for somewhere in the middle of Campbell county, and put a typewriter next to my turntables. I haven’t crashed the tractor...yet. Pull up a chair, we’ve got stories all around.
The bees got me three times. Right on the leg. My overalls, still too clean, are baggy. “Time out! Time out!” I hollered. Pops let the leaf blower throttle down. “They’re crawling up my leg. I think I can–ouch, no. Too late.” Bees filled the air and choked the grass, their buzzing confused about the “bears” in the yard. It’s the second year of beekeeping here on the mountain, and Saturday dawned hot, perfect for the honey harvest.
Bees make honey all day long, and they like it. Wouldn’t you? A single bee might visit over a thousand flowers a day. Once the honey is stored in the comb, they fan their wings to dry it, then cap it with wax. A frame of honey is downright beautiful...and covered with busy bees.
Dry pine needles fueled the smoker, filling the air with a delicious scent that muddles the bees slightly. A few puffs toward the hive, then the honey box (“super”) is removed from the hive, placed on end, and hit with Hurricane Josh–a leaf blower, that is. The bees whirled out, surprisingly calm, and flew back to the main hive.
I was dumb enough to stand downwind over the pile of the dazed bees in the grass. Seeking calm and shelter, three found my overall ankles. Ouch.
Stings aside, the honey turned out marvelous. It’s a dark amber gold, infused with blackberry, tulip poplar, clover, vetch, black locust, and all the other wildflowers the ladies found. The little critters are something.
The next time you swipe a spoonful of honey, close your eyes a moment. Taste those meadows and sunshine? Summer in Virginia sure is sweet. Just watch out you keep those overalls in your boots.
Catch you on the flip side,
- Josh