Jim Taylor

Taylor: Exploring apparent evolutionary dead ends

The hummingbirds are back. Probably two pair of them, although I’m not quick enough to identify individual features.

Taylor: Weeds are all the fault of Adam and Eve

On the first truly warm day of spring in this part of the continent, I went out weeding my garden.

Taylor: Prayer does not depend on passwords

Every time I wake up my computer, it asks for my password.

Taylor: Ancient flumes that transport wisdom through time

My daughter lives in a small cluster of houses in a little valley nestled into a fold in a series of arid hills cloaked in sagebrush.

Taylor: Finding freedom by figuring it out yourself

Lessons to be learned from a dog who seems to learn from his own mistakes.

Taylor: The loneliness of the non-conformist

In the garden, rhubarb thrusts up through last year’s rotting leaves.

Taylor: The many faces of love, devine and otherwise

In his song Taxi, the late Harry Chapin sings that he “learned about love in the back of a Dodge…”

Taylor: We are all slaves to some sort of obsessions

Joey the cat stands on his hind legs, raking his claws against our deck window, demanding to come in.

Taylor: Epiphany when invisible becomes apparent

Hoarfrost came down the other night. No, that’s not quite correct. Snow comes down—hoarfrost just appears.

Taylor: Invisible security shield

Driving through downtown Vancouver recently, steady rain turned the roads into pools of shiny blackness.