There’s something about being island-born that calls you back, even if delivered there by accident (instead of London). Gazing from a mainland shore, if I see an island I feel drawn to visit and savor the mystery. It is Avalon
Watching sparks fly in the night around a scout camp fire, we often burst into song. One of our favorites was the graveyard song, called the hearse song in other versions. One of the stanzas goes: The worms crawled in
Lord Byron’s first meeting with Lady Wilmot Horton at a fashionable party inspired him to compose the poem: She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies Of all that’s best of dark and bright Meet
Phosphate is added to municipal drinking water to avoid lead
A critique of putting faith in net-zero carbon emissions
I can’t avoid this topic forever, not under the headline Peace with Nature. It is the intractable, controversial matter of the teeming numbers of human beings. How many more of us can the Earth sustain in this Anthropocene? Only the
“Why then the world’s mine oyster, which I with sword will open.” Thus, Shakespeare gave us a new idiom in the Merry Wives of Windsor repeated ever since, and Oscar Wilde wielded it with customary wit: “The world was my
Isabella Tree and her husband Charlie Burrell loved to travel from West Sussex to the fauna of wilder places in the world. No longer. They have re-envisioned their ‘backyard’ as semi-wilderness. Some backyard! They own the Knepp estate of 3,500
