have you heard of the Svalbard global seed vault? it’s an enormous deep freezer drilled into the side of a mountain on a small island halfway between Norway and the north pole. it currently houses about 1.5 million distinct seed samples, with a capacity for 4.5 million. leave it to the scandinavians to find such an innovative way to pay it forward. today i plan to pay it forward at my local coffee shop, buying coffees for the next dozen people in line. maybe i’ll just do it anonymously. or maybe i’ll ask the barista to let everyone know it is in honor of the Svalbard global seed vault. because they don’t think i’m weird enough yet, at the shoreview starbucks.

collection of various seeds and seed pods

fossils from a vineyard in our village in southern france. from back when the village had some different inhabitants, and the local vineyards grew a different kind of crop. but the seafood was still fresh.

aquatic fossils

autignac, france

I am so bummed to learn that you cannot stand an egg on its base at the moment of the vernal equinox, and make it stand perfectly upright without falling over. i wanted that to be true. i also wanted to be able to stand my broom up in the middle of the living room and leave it for tax clients to wonder at. i guess i will have to content myself with the arrival of spring. that’s magical enough.

feathered nest with pheasant egg

vladimir nabokov was not just a writer but a world renowned lepidopterist, spending long summer days in alpine meadows stalking butterflies. his love of science and nature equaled his love of great works of human imagination. “a creative writer,” he once said, “must study carefully the works of his rivals, including the almighty.” with that said, i present these feathers, as a kind of homework.

assorted found feathers

st.paul, minnesota

i like that such an elegant plant is raised to offset the sweetness of malt with a little bit of bitterness in the beer we drink. these wild hops were growing on the bank of the orb river in southern france, below a stone arch bridge amid the sound of running water, with trout holding in the current below boulders. the hops were perhaps the only touch of bitterness in the entire scene.

wild hops

along the orb river, languedoc, france