Science

There’s something quietly marvellous about stepping outside just after sunset in midwinter.

We are staying in our Greek whānau’s villa on the shore of the Aegean.

I have always wanted to visit Hallstatt, a prehistoric site that his given its name to the early Iron Age in Europe.

Out in the dark, on a frost-bitten Saturday in Middlemarch, I turned my telescope towards Messier 83.

Some things in life just don’t line up the way you’d expect.

Archaeology can be both deadly dull and, if you are fortunate, incredibly exciting.

In 1957, my brother Richard and I travelled on our 59cc NSU mopeds from our home in Wimbledon to central France to spend our summer digging in the cave of Arcy-sur-Cure.

There’s a bend in the shared pathway out on Otago Peninsula just before you round the corner to Broad Bay.

King’s Birthday weekend saw the Griffin clan decamp to our new crib in Middlemarch.

The first issue of the journal Nature was published on November 4, 1869, costing fourpence.

Last weekend, after some intense strategic planning as part of my day job, I finally managed an entire night under the stars at my new observing site out in Middlemarch.

As digital communication takes over, so letters are now few and far between.

Very keen-eyed visitors to the recent Cleveland National Art Awards show in Dunedin might have noticed a small, unassuming 4-by-5-inch photograph tucked away on a gallery wall - entry number 71.

In 1899 Wang Yi-yung was feeling unwell.

A few years ago while cruising the Aegean, we sailed into the massive crater, now an arm of the sea, that formed when Santorini erupted.

In the pre-dawn hours of May 23, the sky above Dunedin becomes a tapestry of ancient stories, barely holding together.

The other day, my favourite astronomy image-processing software updated itself — as these things tend to do without so much as a by-your-leave — and presented me with a shiny new feature: "Remove...