I’m weary of words. Our nationÂal disÂcourse has become loud and shrill. EveryÂwhere we go, it seems, we are folÂlowed by the striÂdent stacÂcaÂto of Wolf Blitzer urgÂing us towards the edge of our seats.
Saying yes to the universe
Let me return once again to the HubÂble Ultra Deep Field PhoÂto, a docÂuÂment of simÂply mind-blowÂing significance.
Moderate with fog patches becoming good
Viking, North Utsire, South Utsire, ForÂties, CroÂmarÂty, Forth, Tyne, DogÂger, FishÂer, GerÂman Bight, HumÂber, Thames, Dover, Wight, PortÂland, PlyÂmouth, BisÂcay, TrafalÂgar, Fitzroy, Sole, Lundy, FastÂnet, Irish Sea, ShanÂnon, RockÂall, Malin, Hebrides, BaiÂley, Fair Isle, Faeroes, South East Iceland.
The workbench
Our famÂiÂly home in ChatÂtanooga was built in 1941, and like most othÂer homes in the city was heatÂed by coal. It had a coal bin in the baseÂment, and a big galÂvaÂnized furÂnace with cast iron doors and grates and air ducts sproutÂing from the top like the hair of Medusa.
Epic, ground-breaking, rocks science to its core…
Let me note the recent passÂing of Lyall WatÂson, aged 69, author of the super bestÂseller “SuperÂnaÂture,” pubÂlished in 1973, just in time to ride the tsunaÂmi of New Age fads that defined the time.
In the Dreamtime
In earÂly 1986, Sky & TeleÂscope magÂaÂzine offered me a free place on their Comet HalÂley tour to Ayers Rock in the AusÂtralian outback.
Welcome to Bioland
On the new acquiÂsiÂtions shelf of the colÂlege library I find a litÂtle book that almost gets lost among its bigÂger, bulkiÂer comÂpanÂions — “A ModÂest ProÂposÂal: A Plan for the GoldÂen Years,” by RĂ©gis Debray.
“Incredible” is not “impossible”
Let’s get this straight once and for all: EvoÂluÂtion by natÂurÂal selecÂtion is not a theÂoÂry. It is a fact!
Dr. Seuss and Dr. Einstein
Some years ago, when an insect called the thrips — sinÂguÂlar and plurÂal — was in the news for defoÂliÂatÂing sugÂar maples in New EngÂland, I notÂed in my Boston Globe sciÂence colÂumn that thrips are very strange beasts.
The basic language for the human experience of things
One thing (of many) that my son (and our webÂmasÂter) Tom and I share is an admiÂraÂtion for the paintÂings of Mark Rothko.