Outside The Box

Let’s visit for a moment a fictional world where local independent retailers and suppliers have all been replaced by corporate entities with little or no competition. Enter Don Q. Public — gentleman(ish) farmer, shade‑tree mechanic, consumer. Don buys groceries at a big‑box store called Walshark and a German chain named Baldi because the one grocery … More Turning the Screw

A president survives an assassination attempt — again — and instead of a moment of national sobriety, we get a stampede of memes, conspiracy theories, and elected officials competing for the title of Most Irresponsible Commentator. The technology is new, but the reflex — the urge to turn fear into faction — is as old … More It Is To Scold

I took a walk in the woods yesterday in the cool of the evening. “That’s good!” No, that’s bad—I found a big hole and fell into it. “That’s bad.” No, that’s good; inside the hole was a big strongbox. “That’s good.” No, that’s bad—when I lifted it out, I dropped it on my foot. “That’s … More That’s Good, No, That’s Bad

Before we built our house on my grandparents’ old farm, I spent many hours wandering the woods and looking. I’d sit and imagine the view through a window or across a porch and absorb the feel of the place. Then the other side of my brain would back‑of‑the‑napkin calculate what it might cost to build … More The Old Rocky Hill

It’s called Dim Mak. An approximate translation would be “pressing the pulse,” and the phrase is familiar to students of martial arts and fans of martial‑arts movies. I have an old book of the same name, subtitled Death Point Striking. I keep it mostly because I never get rid of books. It’s a relic from … More The Art of Dim Zi

Slowly, slowly, and then all at once. It begins with a faint dusting you barely notice. You think, “It must have been that construction area we drove through,” and you hose it off. But it’s back the next morning, and that night, when you make the evening rounds with a flashlight, it looks like it’s … More The Pollening

“For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.” When Shawn told me we were publishing a letter to the editor responding to the 11 March piece, it struck me how long I’ve been doing this. My mind went back to some of the reactions we received during the Iraq War. Twenty-three years later, … More In the Company of Neighbors

Trypoxylon politum is the dress‑up name of the organ‑pipe mud dauber that builds its distinctive nests in barns and under sheds. The contents of those nests are a familiar discovery on the inquisitive journey of any child fortunate enough to grow up exposed to country living. Break open the nest and you’ll find stacks of … More Mud, Metal and the Myth of Diversity

Let’s begin with a small challenge—something Alex Trebek might have delivered with that knowing half‑smile that meant the answer was hiding in plain sight. Consider the following passage and see if you can identify the speaker, or at least the era in which it was spoken: “Often God overturns the expectations of men, raising up … More Though The Ground Has Moved