This diverse, talented group included the linchpins of fossil fuel divestment campaigns, the heads of a nationwide movement against herbicides on campus, advocates against the climate injustice of clear-cutting forests to produce wood pellets, and more.
The revelation that the Supreme Court is likely to overturn Roe v. Wade brought me back to the 1990s in the Valley Medical Center in Brownsville, Texas on the U.S.-Mexico border.
I have been trying to write about the glories of spring at least since the crocuses first peeked out at the start of March. Each year, it has become a ritual for me.
War, preparations for it, and the production and maintenance of large arsenals, especially nuclear ones, are among the largest threats to the environment and of global climate change on the planet.
I stood in shirt sleeves and watched a honeybee settle into the bright red and yellow camellia blossom in my Bethesda yard. It was about 63˚F, but it was January 2, not April 2. The next day, temperatures plunged and some eight inches of snow bent my camellia bush to the ground and sent birds scrambling for my snow-laden feeders.
In the nineties, when it was novel, I used to run around shouting about climate change, “It’s not just polar bears and penguins, it’s people, too!”
The showy blossoms are out, shouting for attention. I am dazzled, like those who drive or wander by, getting an aesthetic jolt and then moving on.
I focus my binoculars on a brilliant male cardinal — its scarlet body, the black around its bill, its distinguished crest, its elegant, slowly flicking tail. I am struck by its beauty against the white of snow and dark green of holly.
The longing to return to some idealized “normalcy” is palpable following years of a mismanaged and devastating pandemic, along with the growth of violent white supremacy ignored and then stoked by President Donald Trump.
But it is not enough to celebrate, breathe relief, or simply condemn President Trump and his enablers. Their treasonous intent is now clear for all to see.