A stream with no tributaries is a first-order stream. One with only first-order tributaries is second order and so-forth with ever increasing fractal complexity. So

“Read this,” she said. So I did. She’s our professional writer and her critiques of my offerings for my biweekly RJ blogging gig sting me

I am writing a film review of sorts, although I couldn’t tell you the last time before this that I had entered a theater and

Distance hides it a bit but not too much. I checked the rearview and braked hard to turn south on Forest Road 513. An afterthought,

I woke up all sorts of lazy and dull. They were back from their walk, these two grad students. One worked for me years ago

They ran the brush-hog late along the edge of the prairie. Winter-rank fuzzy stubble stems bristled from a beating off with a dull blade. An

I was going to be so productive. I was going to get ahead on things

The big news on the creation-care front was that we, in North America, woke up to newly-revealed final language in the COP28’s First Global Stocktake

What do you suppose you’d find, to root around in that walnut-sized brain for a while? It’s a pathetic nod to self-care I suppose, but