On my desk is a blueberry gall, given to me by a student who wanted to know what it was.
Articles from April 2021
Joseph Merrick in 1889
Photo by Roberto Nickson on Unsplash
Dying for freedom, PINned to the spot
There is a story by D. H. Lawrence about a man who buys an island in order to escape the pandemonium of city life.
Photo by Jared Erondu on Unsplash
Debauched on light
Somehow, I’m always late getting around to reading the really delicious books.
The Hubble eXtreme Deep Field image of thousands of galaxies • NASA, ESA
Take the universe with a grain of salt
I push back the desks and make a model of the Milky Way Galaxy on the floor with a box of ordinary kitchen salt. I sprinkle the salt into a dense nucleus at the center, then add sweeping spiral arms. The grains glitter against the dark tiles.
Photo by Omer Sonido on Unsplash
Who’s winning culture war? Who cares
Thirty-five years ago [in 1959], C.P. Snow, in a now famous essay, wrote about a polarization of academics into two camps: literary intellectuals and scientists. Not only did the two groups not understand each other, said Snow, they worked at cross purposes.
Photo by camilo jimenez on Unsplash
Beware: Electronic logorrhea looms
My editor asked if I wanted my e‑mail address appended to this column. Good heavens, no.
Photo by Carlos Arthur M.R on Unsplash
Asahara’s flying circus? Thank heaven for the laws of physics
Come, Josephine, we don’t need a machine. Sit with me here on the floor. Cross your legs into the lotus position. Close your eyes.
The nest of a kildeer • Photo by David Moulton (CC BY 2.0)
Chemistry with a cosmic spark
Why do killdeers build their nest on open ground?
"The Creation of the Sun and the Moon" by Michelangelo
God of ignorance, or of knowledge?
One million bucks! Perhaps not as prestigious as a Nobel prize, but certainly more money. Physicist Paul Davies is a lucky man.
Rattus norvegicus • Photo by Pete Beard (CC BY 2.0)
13 ways of looking at a rat
The rat in the attic is nocturnal. All night long it scampers in the dusty pitch between the rafters, making a noise like fingernails drumming on tin. At dawn, it gnaws on something in the wall. Is it excavating an entrance into our space, the space of light?