Science matters

The Boundless Deep: Young Tennyson, Science and the ...

You have the universe in your hair and the stars on your brow. I would wrap you up in heaven’s rainbow cloak, But I am a poor man. My only currency is hope. You are like an orchard abundant with fruit

Search for “bog” in this new edition of Seamus Heaney’s poems and you will find the word some 60 times; the 1,200 tissue-thin pages are mulchy with “the squelch and slap of soggy peat”. There is the o

A year in the life of the eighteenth-century naturalist

An early-morning dog walk through the woods sees John Lewis-Stempel coming face to face–or skin to spider silk–with the industrious magic of a September dawn

Ian McEwan is strolling through the garden of his Cotswolds manor house. Bees waft drowsily between wildflowers. Plump apples, pears and walnuts bauble the trees. Vibrant cerulean-blue damselflies hov