I’ve been reflecting on my own writing. Today, I picked up three bound booklets from my local copy shop. These are the ‘after’ picture of my PhD dissertation — the pdfs of the peer-reviewed papers
There is something magical about reading a well-written, remarkable paper from outside of your sub-discipline — the echoes of familiarity in methodology, the unpredictable overlaps, the serendipity of finding the research in the first place.
There are many ways to communicate science, but few as expedient and direct as social media. But while Twitter and Instagram have given scientists unprecedented, unfiltered reach to new audiences, there has been a desire
I remember feeling a spark of urgent curiosity when I found a copy of All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten on a shelf in the guest bedroom. I was 11. And
Recently, I was wrapping up some revisions on a phenology paper and to comply with the journal’s style for taxonomy, I needed to know the authority on a species of white violets that a Maine hunting
This is a deep dive into my own research — the backstory behind a single line in a recently published paper and the data-driven trip down memory lane that was spurred by an innocent question
In this space, I’ve often shared my love for National Park-based research. I count myself among the researchers devoting time and energy to documenting how climate change affects the ecosystems and natural resources in U.S.
During the dark afternoons of December in New England, I like to scroll through my old field photos and think of all the green, growing things I’ve measured in beautiful places during those long-ago long-lit
As a parent to a newborn, I was drawn to the recent PLoS ONE paper ‘Creeping in the Night.’ I’m creeping in the night all the time — but I don’t get the excitement
Over the weekend I submitted a grant proposal, wrote a quippy tweet, and read a paper. The paper was Dr. Christopher Lynn’s ‘Family and the field: Expectations of a field- based research career