Pillow Road

On that month-long trip he carried no compass, sextant or charts. He was not against modern instruments on principle. A compass could occasionally be useful in daylight; and, at least in old age, he wore a chunky watch. But Mau did not operate on latitude, longitude, angles, or mathematical calculations of any kind. He walked, and sailed, under an arching web of stars moving slowly east to west from their rising to their setting points, and knew them so well—more than 100 of them by name, and their associated stars by colour, light and habit—that he seemed to hold a whole cosmos in his head, with himself, determined, stocky and unassuming, at the nub of the celestial action.

My son Ben is working on setting up a shop in our garage. I like these hanging tool racks from Bill Gurstelle.

Salad hates dressing, and dressing hates itself.

Let me explain. The greens we use in salad, whether or not they come from the lettuce family, are tender leaves with a shiny, waxy layer on the outside and thin cell walls within. The cells should be packed with moisture, enough to make the cell walls burst when we bite into them, creating the characteristic crunch that most people appreciate.