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This spring, DC-area students are planting native flowers — and activating ‘the solarpunk imagination’

News Feed
Wednesday, May 1, 2024

The spotlight Tending a garden is about as hands-on as climate solutions get. On a basic level, putting plants in the ground helps sequester carbon. Vegetation can reduce stress and tension for the humans around it, and it provides habitat and sustenance for pollinators and other wildlife. Gardens can provide spaces for education, and, of course, sources of food. But the act of designing and planting a green space serves another, more metaphorical purpose: It gives the gardener agency over a piece of the world and what they want it to look like — and a role in conveying of all those aforementioned benefits. That’s the premise behind Wild Visions, a challenge launched in the DMV area (that’s District of Columbia, Maryland, and Virginia, for the uninitiated) in January. The project invited university students to design gardens with all sorts of visions and themes, then bring them to fruition this spring with native seedlings from Garden for Wildlife — an offshoot of the National Wildlife Federation. For every plant the company sells, it donates one to a community project, said campus engagement lead Rosalie Bull. This spring, around 2,000 went to Wild Visions. “We’ll be creating in total nearly 6,000 square feet of new wildlife habitat in the DMV,” Bull said. “And that’s just this year. We hope to do it year after year.” In Bull’s view, this project has a distinctly solarpunk framing — celebrating a literary genre and art movement that conjures visions of a sustainable future, where nature is as central as technology. Although part of the goal was to get more native flowers in the ground, the challenge also hoped to “activate the solarpunk imagination,” and let students offer their perspectives on what the gardens could accomplish. For instance, a group called Latinos en Acción from American University wanted to focus on monarch butterfly habitat, as a symbol of the migrant justice movement. Others, like the Community Learning Garden at the University of Maryland, were interested in exploring culinary uses of the plants they received, which included sunflowers, black-eyed Susans, milkweed, goldenrod, and aster. “We framed the challenge as a response to the biodiversity crisis, but also as an invitation to be creative and to create habitat and to create space for humans to connect with the more-than-human world,” Bull said. Above all, she and her team wanted the projects to be fun — and to help students feel empowered to participate in solutions. “The solarpunk orientation is recognizing that things are bad. There’s so much cause for grief, despair, anxiety, whatever. But nevertheless, we’re actually just being asked to care more for our communities and to reintegrate ourselves into relationship with the Earth and our local ecosystems.” A photo from Latinos en Acción’s planting day at 11th and Monroe Street Park in D.C. Rosalie Bull Garden for Wildlife hired Bull in September to explore how it might create opportunities for college students in and around D.C. (the company is headquartered in Gaithersburg, Maryland). She visited schools to discuss various possibilities, like fundraising partnerships or educational programs. “Almost every single student group that I spoke to was like, ‘Give us plants, and we’ll plant a garden,’” she recalled. In the end, 14 groups participated from concept to planting day. They each received 150 seedlings for their wild visions, as well as design support and, in some cases, connections to local partner organizations. The challenge culminated on Sunday in an awards ceremony dubbed “The Plantys.” Among the six awards handed out were the cross-pollinator award, for the group that best exemplified collaboration; the wildlife-gardener award, for the design most focused on creating habitat; and the sanctuary-maker award, for the garden that best served as a community space for gathering and reflection. Each prize came with an engraved, handmade ceramic birdbath. The landscape design award went to Students for Indigenous and Native American Rights, or SINAR, from George Washington University. Its garden took the shape of a turtle, modeled after the flag of the Piscataway people. “I think that we saw this as an opportunity to raise awareness of the connection between climate change, Indigenous land stewardship, and even landback — and also to bring awareness to the Piscataway, [whose land] we reside on,” said Julia Swanson, a junior at George Washington and the vice president of SINAR. She and her peers see a general lack of awareness of Indigenous history and the continued presence of Native peoples in the DMV area. “We just really want to rewrite that narrative and make sure everyone is aware that no matter where they go, they’re on someone’s land. And that includes D.C.” Jacob Brittingham, the secretary of SINAR, is a member of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma. He saw this project as an opportunity to engage with Indigenous representation in his new home of D.C. “It’s always great when you get to honor tribal lands and tribal leaders, and the history and culture of people who have fought to be here, but are continuing to be marginalized,” he said. The SINAR team planted its garden at Piscataway Park, working with the Accokeek Foundation, a local organization that tends to the park and manages educational opportunities there. During their planting day on Saturday, the students had the opportunity to learn from Anjela Barnes, a Piscataway leader and land steward who is the foundation’s executive director. Working with Barnes was a highlight for all the members of SINAR. “I felt so lucky to be able to be there and to plant these plants, and be able to ask questions about them and talk directly to Anjela as we were going through,” said Riya Sharma, a senior and president of the group. “It was just such a great relief to go to Piscataway Park and be surrounded by nature — let alone actually using our hands to dig in the soil and work directly with the land.” Swanson added that it felt good to actively do something the group advocates for on a theoretical level — the restoration of native plants and control of invasive species. And the planting itself was joyful. “I’m not exactly a super outdoorsy person,” she said with a chuckle. “But they were so helpful, the people from Accokeek Foundation. And it was just a really fun environment. Everyone was making jokes and collaborating.” The group named its garden “Wawpaney,” which means daybreak or dawn in Nanticoke, a language spoken by the Piscataway and other tribes from the area. The students worked in a plot in front of the park’s educational center, near the parking lot, which will make the garden highly visible to visitors. Ultimately, they’d like to add a plaque sharing the story of the garden and its connection to the Piscataway flag. “That could be a follow-up project,” Brittingham said. Sharma, Brittingham, and Swanson pose with their birdbath at the Planty awards ceremony. Aliia Wilder As the challenge grows in the years ahead, Bull said, she’d like to be able to work with other organizations to offer students the opportunity to incorporate art and other interpretive materials into their gardens. She was heartened by the enthusiastic response not only from student groups, but also from local environmental organizations, like Accokeek Foundation, that wanted to get involved and host gardens. “There are so many components of the planetary crisis that are really abstract, or are difficult to see yourself as actually integral to the solution,” Bull said. “But biodiversity renewal really has to play out at a yard-by-yard level. It has to play out by individual actions.” She echoed Swanson’s sentiments about creating the opportunity to put solutions into practice — in planting gardens, the students can see the impact they can have on people and wildlife in their communities. “They’re not like, ‘Oh, I just learned a horrific fact, that the world is emptying out of life and I have nothing to do about it.’ It’s like, ‘I’m actually already doing something about it.’” — Claire Elise Thompson More exposure Read: a previous Looking Forward newsletter about the movement away from manicured lawns Read: about the history of urban farming and its connections to food justice and resistance (Grist and Earth in Color) Watch / Read: about some of the benefits of planting native species in your garden (The Weather Network) Read: how climate change is affecting the health of native trees, and arborists are working to build diversity and resilience in the urban canopy (Grist) Browse: a step-by-step guide to building a pollinator-friendly garden (U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service) A parting shot The Wild Visions cross-pollinator award went to three student orgs from the University of Maryland that teamed up for their planting day: the campus Community Learning Garden, the student chapter of the Audubon Society, and an environmental justice group called 17 for Peace and Justice. “It was honestly so awesome,” said Grace Walsh-Little, a senior and president of the Community Learning Garden. “We had worked really hard to be able to come up with a design plan for every single space in the garden and exactly what we were going to pick, and how we were going to space them and where certain plants were going to go. So it was really nice to see that come into action.” Here are some shots from their planting event on Earth Day. IMAGE CREDITS Vision: Grist Spotlight: Rosalie Bull; Aliia Wilder Parting shot: Rosalie Bull; Sydney Walsh This story was originally published by Grist with the headline This spring, DC-area students are planting native flowers — and activating ‘the solarpunk imagination’ on May 1, 2024.

A new initiative invited student groups to design and plant gardens that will promote wildlife, and cultivate their visions for the future.

Illustration of a flower, butterfly, and watering can

The spotlight

Tending a garden is about as hands-on as climate solutions get. On a basic level, putting plants in the ground helps sequester carbon. Vegetation can reduce stress and tension for the humans around it, and it provides habitat and sustenance for pollinators and other wildlife. Gardens can provide spaces for education, and, of course, sources of food. But the act of designing and planting a green space serves another, more metaphorical purpose: It gives the gardener agency over a piece of the world and what they want it to look like — and a role in conveying of all those aforementioned benefits.

That’s the premise behind Wild Visions, a challenge launched in the DMV area (that’s District of Columbia, Maryland, and Virginia, for the uninitiated) in January. The project invited university students to design gardens with all sorts of visions and themes, then bring them to fruition this spring with native seedlings from Garden for Wildlife — an offshoot of the National Wildlife Federation.

For every plant the company sells, it donates one to a community project, said campus engagement lead Rosalie Bull. This spring, around 2,000 went to Wild Visions.

“We’ll be creating in total nearly 6,000 square feet of new wildlife habitat in the DMV,” Bull said. “And that’s just this year. We hope to do it year after year.”

In Bull’s view, this project has a distinctly solarpunk framing — celebrating a literary genre and art movement that conjures visions of a sustainable future, where nature is as central as technology. Although part of the goal was to get more native flowers in the ground, the challenge also hoped to “activate the solarpunk imagination,” and let students offer their perspectives on what the gardens could accomplish. For instance, a group called Latinos en Acción from American University wanted to focus on monarch butterfly habitat, as a symbol of the migrant justice movement. Others, like the Community Learning Garden at the University of Maryland, were interested in exploring culinary uses of the plants they received, which included sunflowers, black-eyed Susans, milkweed, goldenrod, and aster.

“We framed the challenge as a response to the biodiversity crisis, but also as an invitation to be creative and to create habitat and to create space for humans to connect with the more-than-human world,” Bull said. Above all, she and her team wanted the projects to be fun — and to help students feel empowered to participate in solutions. “The solarpunk orientation is recognizing that things are bad. There’s so much cause for grief, despair, anxiety, whatever. But nevertheless, we’re actually just being asked to care more for our communities and to reintegrate ourselves into relationship with the Earth and our local ecosystems.”

Two people stand inside of a large brick planter laying down a protective covering over seedlings, another person stands at the edge watering with a hose

A photo from Latinos en Acción’s planting day at 11th and Monroe Street Park in D.C. Rosalie Bull

Garden for Wildlife hired Bull in September to explore how it might create opportunities for college students in and around D.C. (the company is headquartered in Gaithersburg, Maryland). She visited schools to discuss various possibilities, like fundraising partnerships or educational programs. “Almost every single student group that I spoke to was like, ‘Give us plants, and we’ll plant a garden,’” she recalled.

In the end, 14 groups participated from concept to planting day. They each received 150 seedlings for their wild visions, as well as design support and, in some cases, connections to local partner organizations. The challenge culminated on Sunday in an awards ceremony dubbed “The Plantys.” Among the six awards handed out were the cross-pollinator award, for the group that best exemplified collaboration; the wildlife-gardener award, for the design most focused on creating habitat; and the sanctuary-maker award, for the garden that best served as a community space for gathering and reflection. Each prize came with an engraved, handmade ceramic birdbath.

The landscape design award went to Students for Indigenous and Native American Rights, or SINAR, from George Washington University. Its garden took the shape of a turtle, modeled after the flag of the Piscataway people.

“I think that we saw this as an opportunity to raise awareness of the connection between climate change, Indigenous land stewardship, and even landback — and also to bring awareness to the Piscataway, [whose land] we reside on,” said Julia Swanson, a junior at George Washington and the vice president of SINAR. She and her peers see a general lack of awareness of Indigenous history and the continued presence of Native peoples in the DMV area. “We just really want to rewrite that narrative and make sure everyone is aware that no matter where they go, they’re on someone’s land. And that includes D.C.”

Jacob Brittingham, the secretary of SINAR, is a member of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma. He saw this project as an opportunity to engage with Indigenous representation in his new home of D.C. “It’s always great when you get to honor tribal lands and tribal leaders, and the history and culture of people who have fought to be here, but are continuing to be marginalized,” he said.

The SINAR team planted its garden at Piscataway Park, working with the Accokeek Foundation, a local organization that tends to the park and manages educational opportunities there. During their planting day on Saturday, the students had the opportunity to learn from Anjela Barnes, a Piscataway leader and land steward who is the foundation’s executive director.

Working with Barnes was a highlight for all the members of SINAR. “I felt so lucky to be able to be there and to plant these plants, and be able to ask questions about them and talk directly to Anjela as we were going through,” said Riya Sharma, a senior and president of the group. “It was just such a great relief to go to Piscataway Park and be surrounded by nature — let alone actually using our hands to dig in the soil and work directly with the land.”

Swanson added that it felt good to actively do something the group advocates for on a theoretical level — the restoration of native plants and control of invasive species. And the planting itself was joyful. “I’m not exactly a super outdoorsy person,” she said with a chuckle. “But they were so helpful, the people from Accokeek Foundation. And it was just a really fun environment. Everyone was making jokes and collaborating.”

The group named its garden “Wawpaney,” which means daybreak or dawn in Nanticoke, a language spoken by the Piscataway and other tribes from the area. The students worked in a plot in front of the park’s educational center, near the parking lot, which will make the garden highly visible to visitors. Ultimately, they’d like to add a plaque sharing the story of the garden and its connection to the Piscataway flag. “That could be a follow-up project,” Brittingham said.

Three smiling people stand in a grassy area holding up a purple ceramic birdbath

Sharma, Brittingham, and Swanson pose with their birdbath at the Planty awards ceremony. Aliia Wilder

As the challenge grows in the years ahead, Bull said, she’d like to be able to work with other organizations to offer students the opportunity to incorporate art and other interpretive materials into their gardens. She was heartened by the enthusiastic response not only from student groups, but also from local environmental organizations, like Accokeek Foundation, that wanted to get involved and host gardens.

“There are so many components of the planetary crisis that are really abstract, or are difficult to see yourself as actually integral to the solution,” Bull said. “But biodiversity renewal really has to play out at a yard-by-yard level. It has to play out by individual actions.” She echoed Swanson’s sentiments about creating the opportunity to put solutions into practice — in planting gardens, the students can see the impact they can have on people and wildlife in their communities. “They’re not like, ‘Oh, I just learned a horrific fact, that the world is emptying out of life and I have nothing to do about it.’ It’s like, ‘I’m actually already doing something about it.’”

— Claire Elise Thompson

More exposure

A parting shot

The Wild Visions cross-pollinator award went to three student orgs from the University of Maryland that teamed up for their planting day: the campus Community Learning Garden, the student chapter of the Audubon Society, and an environmental justice group called 17 for Peace and Justice. “It was honestly so awesome,” said Grace Walsh-Little, a senior and president of the Community Learning Garden. “We had worked really hard to be able to come up with a design plan for every single space in the garden and exactly what we were going to pick, and how we were going to space them and where certain plants were going to go. So it was really nice to see that come into action.” Here are some shots from their planting event on Earth Day.

A grid of four photos showing young people with their hands in the dirt, planting seedlings, and watering with a watering can

IMAGE CREDITS

Vision: Grist

Spotlight: Rosalie Bull; Aliia Wilder

Parting shot: Rosalie Bull; Sydney Walsh

This story was originally published by Grist with the headline This spring, DC-area students are planting native flowers — and activating ‘the solarpunk imagination’ on May 1, 2024.

Read the full story here.
Photos courtesy of

The World Has Laws About Land and Sea, But Not About Ice

As the Arctic melts and people spend more time there, defining our relationship to sea ice becomes more necessary.

When the Chinese cargo freighter Istanbul Bridge set sail for Europe in late September, it took an unusual route. Instead of heading south for the 40-day voyage through the Suez Canal, it tacked north. The freighter arrived in the United Kingdom at the port of Felixstowe just 20 days later—successfully launching the first-ever Arctic commercial-container route from Asia to Europe.For most of human history, the surface of the world’s northernmost ocean has been largely frozen. Now scientists predict that most of the Arctic Ocean’s 6.1 million square miles may be seasonally ice-free as soon as 2050. Economically, a less icy Arctic spells opportunity—new shipping routes and untapped fossil-fuel reserves. Climatologically, it’s a calamity. Legally, it’s a problem that has to be solved.  Much of the ocean’s center, the northernmost stretch surrounding the pole, will be subject to the lawlessness of the high seas—which will become a problem as more ships try to navigate a mushy mix of water and sea ice. And although the Arctic is the world’s fastest-warming region, and contains its most rapidly acidifiying ocean, it has few environmental protections. Scientists don’t have a clear idea of which species might need defending, or of the climate effects of unbridled shipping. (Ships puff black carbon, which reduces ice reflectivity and, in the short term, causes up to 1,500 times more warming than carbon dioxide.)In October, the United Nation’s special envoy for the ocean, Peter Thomson, called for countries to agree to a “precautionary pause on new economic activities in the Central Arctic Ocean” to buy time to study the climate and environmental risks of increased activity. Others are asking for an agreement akin to the 2020 Artemis Accords, which committed 59 nations to the “peaceful” and “sustainable” exploration of space. But some polar-law scholars argue that curbing climate catastrophe may require a more radical reimagining: to make sea ice a legal person.For centuries of seafaring, ice was an obstacle blocking people out, not an environment anyone thought to protect. Even in the Arctic, “we have laws about the land, we have the Law of the Sea, but we don’t have laws about ice,” Apostolos Tsiouvalas, a postdoctoral researcher with the Arctic University of Norway, told me. Because dealing with ice hasn’t been a major concern, even for the five nations that border the Arctic, and because ice is always transforming, its place in the law is confused at best.In many cases, solid ice extending from a coastline has been treated as legal land, and ice carried by a current has been considered water. During the Cold War, both Russia and the United States maintained scientific “drift stations” on detached ice floes. In 1970, when a shooting occurred on one American station, several nations debated where, exactly, the crime took place. Was the ice Canadian, because it likely calved from a glacier on Canada’s coast? Was it an American island? After some back-and-forth, the vessel-size chunk of ice legally transformed—by no small imaginative leap—into an American ship.The so-called Arctic Exception of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea does extend states’ rights to impose laws far from the coastline, in areas that are ice-covered for most of the year. The point was for Arctic states to help prevent accidents and pollution, but states have since used the exception to extend their geographical sovereignty. But the term ice-covered complicates these claims. How much ice means “covered”? Are we talking uncrossably frozen, or just a few drifting bits?That’s the problem with regulating icy regions: Even if these cryo-categories were more formalized, none would apply for very long. A large majority of Arctic ice is sea ice, which forms on ocean surfaces when salt water freezes. (It’s distinct from icebergs, which calve from landbound glaciers.) Human activity may have accelerated its melt, but sea ice was already one of the planet’s most dynamic systems, its surface area fluctuating by millions of miles season to season. It’s always either melting or freezing, and as it melts, its fragments can travel hundreds of miles along waves and currents.In an article published this month in the journal The Yearbook of Polar Law, Tsiouvalas and his co-authors, Mana Tugend and Romain Chuffart, argue that piecemeal updates to current laws simply will never keep up with this fast-changing and threatened environment. Future governance of sea ice will require a transformation of some sort, and they argue that the clearest path forward is to bring the rights-of-nature movement to the high north.  Since Ecuador’s landmark 2008 constitutional protection of nature, Bolivia, India, New Zealand, and other countries across the world have made natural entities legal persons, or otherwise given them inviolable rights. The UCLA Law professor James Salzman, who has taught a class on nature’s rights, told me that this idea does not represent a single legal framework but that it does answer what he calls the “Lorax problem” of environmental law, referring to the Dr. Seuss character who claims to “speak for the trees.” Granting a voiceless entity legal personhood provides it with a representative to argue on its behalf.With this designation, Tsiouvalas and his co-authors note, sea ice would get the highest legal status possible. In many cases, environmental protections can be bent to accommodate other, conflicting benefits to human society. But personhood grants an inherent right to exist that can’t be superseded. The new paper is mostly an ethical exploration and, the authors acknowledge, still just a stepping stone to more concrete regulations, but granting ice rights would create firmer standing to, for example, keep ships out of areas that humanity might otherwise want to use. The authors also note that rethinking sea ice’s status could include Indigenous people who have been routinely excluded from decisions around Arctic sovereignty and whose millennia of living on and with ice could guide its future governance.But Sara Olsvig, the chair of the Inuit Circumpolar Council, told me recently that the legal interest in Arctic rights of nature is a “worrying development.” To Olsvig, the phrase rights of nature itself implies some separate concept of nature that doesn’t exist for the Inuit. And in the past, the environmentalist movement has elevated its idea of “nature” above the interests of Indigenous people. Decades-long bans against whale and seal hunting, for instance, devastated the cultural continuity and health of Inuit in the far north.To answer such concerns, any legal right granted needs to be very clear about the duties that follow, Salzman said: If sea ice has a right to not be harmed, what constitutes “harm”? Would that mean blocking all human interference with the ice, or merely banning fuels that emit black carbon? After all, the major threat to sea ice—global emissions—“is not something that can be locally managed,” Salzman pointed out, and so far, natural resources have obtained legal personhood only in a national context. Rights for sea ice would require international agreement, which could be not only harder to achieve but harder to enforce. Sara Ross, an associate law professor at Dalhousie University, in Canada, told me that, in her view, legal personhood granted via international treaty would be too dependent on goodwill agreements to be effective.But in some ways, legal personhood for nonhumans is an old idea, Ross said. Most countries grant it to corporations, and in the United States and Commonwealth countries, it’s typical for ships too. She especially likes the ship comparison, because—as maritime law has already discovered—floating pieces of ice aren’t so dissimilar. She imagines a more circumscribed role for sea-ice personhood, connected to, say, setting standards that ban icebreaking or heavy fuel emissions in icy areas. If these mandates are violated, local Inuit communities would have the power to sue on behalf of the ice—whether or not they could prove how much one particular ship degraded one particular stretch of ice. Without some legal protections put in place, the sea ice will soon disappear that much faster. In October, the U.S. bought new icebreaking ships from Finland and undermined an International Maritime Organization agreement that would have had shipowners pay a fee for the greenhouse gases their vessels emit. The next week, just after the conclusion of the Istanbul Bridge’s voyage, Russia and China made a formal agreement to co-develop the Northern Sea Route that the ship had followed. If summer sea ice disappears entirely, scientists predict accelerated catastrophe—leaps in temperature, more frequent and stronger storms, global sea-level rise—which will threaten the planet’s general livability. “The fact that we need sea ice to survive is not a rights-of-nature argument,” Salzman said. “But it’s still a pretty good case to make.”

Neil Frank, Former Hurricane Center Chief Who Improved Public Outreach on Storms, Has Died

Neil Frank, a former head of the National Hurricane Center credited with working to increase the country’s readiness for major storms, has died

Neil Frank, a former head of the National Hurricane Center credited with increasing the country's readiness for major storms, died Wednesday. He was 94.Frank led the hurricane center from 1974 to 1987, the longest-serving director in its history.“He gets tremendous credit for the being the first one to go out of his way and reach out and make the connection between the National Hurricane Center and the emergency managers,” said meteorologist Max Mayfield, who served as the hurricane center's director from 2000-2007. “He taught me that it’s not all about the forecast,” Mayfield said. “A perfect forecast is no good if people don’t take immediate action.”Frank’s son, Ron Frank, said in a Facebook post that his father died at home a few days after going into hospice care.KHOU-TV in Houston, where Frank spent two decades as chief meteorologist after leaving the hurricane center, first reported his death. The station referred an Associated Press call for comment to CBS, whose spokeswoman declined comment but directed the AP to Ron Frank’s post.When Frank started at the National Hurricane Center, advances with weather satellites were helping forecasters to better predict the location and direction of a storm. Frank worked to make that information more accessible to residents in hurricane-vulnerable areas, said Mayfield. He also regularly appeared on television to give updates on storms and advice on staying safe.“He was so passionate and you could just feel his enthusiasm but also sense of warning — that he wanted people to take action,” Mayfield said. “He was very animated, spoke with his hands a lot. And if you’d play it on fast-forward, he’d look like a juggler sometimes.”Frank was skeptical that human actions, such as the burning of oil, gas and coal, cause climate change, Mayfield said. In a video posted to YouTube titled “Is Climate Change Real?” he instead attributed warming to the planet’s natural and cyclical weather patterns. Scientists today overwhelmingly agree that burning of fossil fuels is the primary driver of planet-warming emissions that are causing more frequent, costly and deadly extreme weather around the world.The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – December 2025

Seven books to help you work through the climate anxiety you developed in 2025

With the holiday travel season ramping up, a good book is a must-have for airport delays or to give as the perfect gift.

With the holiday travel season ramping up, a good book is a must-have for airport delays or to give as the perfect gift.Journalists from Bloomberg Green picked seven climate and environmental books they loved despite their weighty content. A few were positively uplifting. Here are our recommendations.Fiction“What We Can Know” by Ian McEwanIt’s 2119, decades after the Derangement (cascading climate catastrophes), the Inundation (a global tsunami triggered by a Russian nuclear bomb) and artificial intelligence-launched wars have halved the world’s population. The U.S. is no more and the U.K. is an impoverished archipelago of tiny islands where scholar Tom Metcalfe embarks on an obsessive quest to find the only copy of a renowned 21st century poem that was never published.The famous author of the ode to now-vanished English landscapes recited it once at a dinner party in 2014 as a gift to his wife, but its words remain lost to time. Metcalfe believes access to the previously hidden digital lives of the poet and his circle will lead him to the manuscript. He knows where to start his search: Thanks to Nigeria — the 22nd century’s superpower — the historical internet has been decrypted and archived, including every personal email, text, photo and video.The truth, though, lies elsewhere. It’s a richly told tale of our deranged present — and where it may lead without course correction. — Todd Woody“Greenwood” by Michael ChristieThis likewise dystopian novel begins in 2038 with Jacinda Greenwood, a dendrologist turned tour guide for the ultra-wealthy, working in one of the world’s last remaining forests. But the novel zig-zags back to 1934 and the beginnings of a timber empire that divided her family for generations.For more than a century, the Greenwoods’ lives and fates were entwined with the trees they fought to exploit or protect. The novel explores themes of ancestral sin and atonement against the backdrop of the forests, which stand as silent witnesses to human crimes enacted on a global scale. — Danielle Bochove“Barkskins” by Annie ProulxAnother multigenerational saga, spanning more than three centuries and 700 pages, this 2016 novel by a Pulitzer Prize-winning author tracks the deforestation of the New World over 300 years, beginning in the 17th century.Following the descendants of two immigrants to what will become modern-day Quebec, the story takes the reader on a global voyage, crisscrossing North America, visiting the Amsterdam coffee houses that served as hubs for the Dutch mercantile empire and following new trade routes from China to New Zealand. Along the way, it chronicles the exploitation of the forests, the impact on Indigenous communities and the lasting legacy of colonialism.With a vast cast of characters, the novel is at times unwieldy. But the staggering descriptions of Old World forests and the incredible human effort required to destroy them linger long after the saga concludes. —Danielle BochoveNonfiction“The Joyful Environmentalist: How to Practise Without Preaching” by Isabel LosadaIt is hard for a committed environmentalist to feel cheerful these days. But Isabel Losada’s book encourages readers to undertake a seemingly impossible mission: finding delight in navigating the absurd situations that committed environmentalists inevitably face, rather than succumbing to frustration.Those delights can be as simple as looking up eco-friendly homemade shampoo formulas on Instagram or crushing a bucket of berries for seed collection to help restore native plants.The book itself is an enjoyable read. With vivid details and a dose of British humor, Losada relays her failed attempt to have lunch at a Whole Foods store without using its disposable plastic cutlery. (The solution? Bring your own metal fork.) To be sure, some advice in her book isn’t realistic for everyone. But there are plenty of practical tips, such as deleting old and unwanted emails to help reduce the energy usage of data centers that store them. This book is an important reminder that you can protect the environment joyfully.— Coco Liu“Breakneck: China’s Quest to Engineer the Future” by Dan WangChina’s President Xi Jinping is a trained engineer, and so are many members of the country’s top leadership. Dan Wang writes about how that training shows up in the country’s relentless push to build, build and build. That includes a clean tech industry that leads the world in almost every conceivable category, though Wang explores other domains as well.Born in China, Wang grew up in Canada and studied in the U.S. before going back to live in his native country from 2017 to 2023. That background helps his analysis land with more gravity in 2025, as the U.S. and China face off in a battle of fossil fuels versus clean tech. — Akshat Rathi“Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds and Shape Our Futures” by Merlin SheldrakeA JP Morgan banker might seem an unlikely character in a book about fungi. But R. Gordon Wasson, who popularized the main compound found in “magic mushrooms” with a 1957 article in Life magazine, is only one of the delightful surprises in Merlin Sheldrake’s offbeat book. The author’s dedication to telling the tale of fungi includes literally getting his hands dirty, unearthing complex underground fungal networks, and engaging in self-experimentation by participating in a scientific study of the effects of LSD on the brain. The result is a book that reveals the complexity and interdependency of life on Earth, and the role we play in it.“We humans became as clever as we are, so the argument goes, because we were entangled within a demanding flurry of interaction,” Sheldrake writes. Fungi, a lifeform that depends on its interrelatedness with everything else, might have more in common with us than we realize. — Olivia Rudgard“Toms River: A Story of Science and Salvation” by Dan FaginWhen chemical manufacturer Ciba arrived in Toms River, N.J., in 1952, the company’s new plant seemed like the economic engine the sleepy coastal community dependent on fishing and tourism had always needed. But the plant soon began quietly dumping millions of gallons of chemical-laced waste into the town’s eponymous river and surrounding woods. That started a legacy of toxic pollution that left families asking whether the waste was the cause of unusually high rates of childhood cancer in the area.This Pulitzer Prize-winning masterpiece of environmental journalism reads like a thriller, albeit with devastating real-world fallout. It also shows how companies can reinvent themselves: I was startled to learn that Ciba, later known as Ciba-Geigy, merged with another company in 1996 to become the pharmaceutical company Novartis. At a time when there’s been a push to relocate manufacturing from abroad back to the U.S., this is a worthy examination of the hidden costs that can accompany industrial growth. — Emma CourtBochove, Woody, Liu, Court, Rudgard and Rathi write for Bloomberg.

Google is betting on carbon capture tech to lower data center emissions. Here’s how it works

As AI data centers spring up across the country, their energy demand and resulting greenhouse gas emissions are raising concerns. With servers and energy-intensive cooling systems constantly running, these buildings can use anywhere from a few megawatts of power for a small data center to more than 100 megawatts for a hyperscale data center. To put that in perspective, the average large natural gas power plant built in the U.S. generates less than 1,000 megawatts. When the power for these data centers comes from fossil fuels, they can become major sources of climate-warming emissions in the atmosphere—unless the power plants capture their greenhouse gases first and then lock them away. Google recently entered into a unique corporate power purchase agreement to support the construction of a natural gas power plant in Illinois designed to do exactly that through carbon capture and storage. So how does carbon capture and storage, or CCS, work for a project like this? I am an engineer who wrote a 2024 book about various types of carbon storage. Here’s the short version of what you need to know. How CCS works When fossil fuels are burned to generate electricity, they release carbon dioxide, a powerful greenhouse gas that remains in the atmosphere for centuries. As these gases accumulate in the atmosphere, they act like a blanket, holding heat close to the Earth’s surface. Too high of a concentration heats up the Earth too much, setting off climate changes, including worsening heat waves, rising sea levels, and intensifying storms. Carbon capture and storage involves capturing carbon dioxide from power plants, industrial processes, or even directly from the air and then transporting it, often through pipelines, to sites where it can be safely injected underground for permanent storage. The carbon dioxide might be transported as a supercritical gas—which is right at the phase change from liquid to gas and has the properties of both—or dissolved in a liquid. Once injected deep underground, the carbon dioxide can become permanently trapped in the geologic structure, dissolve in brine, or become mineralized, turning it to rock. The goal of carbon storage is to ensure that carbon dioxide can be kept out of the atmosphere for a long time. Types of underground carbon storage There are several options for storing carbon dioxide underground. Depleted oil and natural gas reservoirs have plentiful storage space and the added benefit that most are already mapped and their limits understood. They already held hydrocarbons in place for millions of years. Carbon dioxide can also be injected into working oil or gas reservoirs to push out more of those fossil fuels while leaving most of the carbon dioxide behind. This method, known as enhanced oil and gas recovery, is the most common one used by carbon capture and storage projects in the U.S. today, and one reason CCS draws complaints from environmental groups. Volcanic basalt rock and carbonate formations are considered good candidates for safe and long-term geological storage because they contain calcium and magnesium ions that interact with carbon dioxide, turning it into minerals. Iceland pioneered this method using its bedrock of volcanic basalt for carbon storage. Basalt also covers most of the oceanic crust, and scientists have been exploring the potential for sub-seafloor storage reservoirs. How Iceland uses basalt to turn captured carbon dioxide into solid minerals. In the U.S., a fourth option likely has the most potential for industrial carbon dioxide storage—deep saline aquifers, which is what Google plans to use. These widely distributed aquifers are porous and permeable sediment formations consisting of sandstone, limestone, or dolostone. They’re filled with highly mineralized groundwater that cannot be used directly for drinking water but is very suitable for storing CO2. Deep saline aquifers also have large storage capacities, ranging from about 1,000 to 20,000 gigatons. In comparison, the nation’s total carbon emissions from fossil fuels in 2024 were about 4.9 gigatons. As of fall 2025, 21 industrial facilities across the U.S. used carbon capture and storage, including industries producing natural gas, fertilizer, and biofuels, according to the Global CCS Institute’s 2025 report. Five of those use deep saline aquifers, and the rest involve enhanced oil or gas recovery. Eight more industrial carbon capture facilities were under construction. Google’s plan is unique because it involves a power purchase agreement that makes building the power plant with carbon capture and storage possible. Google’s deep saline aquifer storage plan Google’s 400-megawatt natural gas power plant, to be built with Broadwing Energy, is designed to capture about 90% of the plant’s carbon dioxide emissions and pipe them underground for permanent storage in a deep saline aquifer in the nearby Mount Simon sandstone formation. The Mount Simon sandstone formation is a huge saline aquifer that lies underneath most of Illinois, southwestern Indiana, southern Ohio, and western Kentucky. It has a layer of highly porous and permeable sandstone that makes it an ideal candidate for carbon dioxide injection. To keep the carbon dioxide in a supercritical state, that layer needs to be at least half a mile (800 meters) deep. A thick layer of Eau Claire shale sits above the Mount Simon formation, serving as the caprock that helps prevent stored carbon dioxide from escaping. Except for some small regions near the Mississippi River, Eau Claire shale is considerably thick—more than 300 feet (90 meters)—throughout most of the Illinois basin. The estimated storage capacity of the Mount Simon formation ranges from 27 gigatons to 109 gigatons of carbon dioxide. The Google project plans to use an existing injection well site that was part of the first large-scale carbon storage demonstration in the Mount Simon formation. Food producer Archer Daniels Midland began injecting carbon dioxide there from nearby corn processing plants in 2012. Carbon capture and storage has had challenges as the technology developed over the years, including a pipeline rupture in 2020 that forced evacuations in Satartia, Mississippi, and caused several people to lose consciousness. After a recent leak deep underground at the Archer Daniels Midland site in Illinois, the Environmental Protection Agency in 2025 required the company to improve its monitoring. Stored carbon dioxide had migrated into an unapproved area, but no threat to water supplies was reported. Why does CCS matter? Data centers are expanding quickly, and utilities will have to build more power capacity to keep up. The artificial intelligence company OpenAI is urging the U.S. to build 100 gigawatts of new capacity every year—doubling its current rate. Many energy experts, including the International Energy Agency, believe carbon capture and storage will be necessary to slow climate change and keep global temperatures from reaching dangerous levels as energy demand rises. Ramesh Agarwal is a professor of engineering at Washington University in St. Louis. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

As AI data centers spring up across the country, their energy demand and resulting greenhouse gas emissions are raising concerns. With servers and energy-intensive cooling systems constantly running, these buildings can use anywhere from a few megawatts of power for a small data center to more than 100 megawatts for a hyperscale data center. To put that in perspective, the average large natural gas power plant built in the U.S. generates less than 1,000 megawatts. When the power for these data centers comes from fossil fuels, they can become major sources of climate-warming emissions in the atmosphere—unless the power plants capture their greenhouse gases first and then lock them away. Google recently entered into a unique corporate power purchase agreement to support the construction of a natural gas power plant in Illinois designed to do exactly that through carbon capture and storage. So how does carbon capture and storage, or CCS, work for a project like this? I am an engineer who wrote a 2024 book about various types of carbon storage. Here’s the short version of what you need to know. How CCS works When fossil fuels are burned to generate electricity, they release carbon dioxide, a powerful greenhouse gas that remains in the atmosphere for centuries. As these gases accumulate in the atmosphere, they act like a blanket, holding heat close to the Earth’s surface. Too high of a concentration heats up the Earth too much, setting off climate changes, including worsening heat waves, rising sea levels, and intensifying storms. Carbon capture and storage involves capturing carbon dioxide from power plants, industrial processes, or even directly from the air and then transporting it, often through pipelines, to sites where it can be safely injected underground for permanent storage. The carbon dioxide might be transported as a supercritical gas—which is right at the phase change from liquid to gas and has the properties of both—or dissolved in a liquid. Once injected deep underground, the carbon dioxide can become permanently trapped in the geologic structure, dissolve in brine, or become mineralized, turning it to rock. The goal of carbon storage is to ensure that carbon dioxide can be kept out of the atmosphere for a long time. Types of underground carbon storage There are several options for storing carbon dioxide underground. Depleted oil and natural gas reservoirs have plentiful storage space and the added benefit that most are already mapped and their limits understood. They already held hydrocarbons in place for millions of years. Carbon dioxide can also be injected into working oil or gas reservoirs to push out more of those fossil fuels while leaving most of the carbon dioxide behind. This method, known as enhanced oil and gas recovery, is the most common one used by carbon capture and storage projects in the U.S. today, and one reason CCS draws complaints from environmental groups. Volcanic basalt rock and carbonate formations are considered good candidates for safe and long-term geological storage because they contain calcium and magnesium ions that interact with carbon dioxide, turning it into minerals. Iceland pioneered this method using its bedrock of volcanic basalt for carbon storage. Basalt also covers most of the oceanic crust, and scientists have been exploring the potential for sub-seafloor storage reservoirs. How Iceland uses basalt to turn captured carbon dioxide into solid minerals. In the U.S., a fourth option likely has the most potential for industrial carbon dioxide storage—deep saline aquifers, which is what Google plans to use. These widely distributed aquifers are porous and permeable sediment formations consisting of sandstone, limestone, or dolostone. They’re filled with highly mineralized groundwater that cannot be used directly for drinking water but is very suitable for storing CO2. Deep saline aquifers also have large storage capacities, ranging from about 1,000 to 20,000 gigatons. In comparison, the nation’s total carbon emissions from fossil fuels in 2024 were about 4.9 gigatons. As of fall 2025, 21 industrial facilities across the U.S. used carbon capture and storage, including industries producing natural gas, fertilizer, and biofuels, according to the Global CCS Institute’s 2025 report. Five of those use deep saline aquifers, and the rest involve enhanced oil or gas recovery. Eight more industrial carbon capture facilities were under construction. Google’s plan is unique because it involves a power purchase agreement that makes building the power plant with carbon capture and storage possible. Google’s deep saline aquifer storage plan Google’s 400-megawatt natural gas power plant, to be built with Broadwing Energy, is designed to capture about 90% of the plant’s carbon dioxide emissions and pipe them underground for permanent storage in a deep saline aquifer in the nearby Mount Simon sandstone formation. The Mount Simon sandstone formation is a huge saline aquifer that lies underneath most of Illinois, southwestern Indiana, southern Ohio, and western Kentucky. It has a layer of highly porous and permeable sandstone that makes it an ideal candidate for carbon dioxide injection. To keep the carbon dioxide in a supercritical state, that layer needs to be at least half a mile (800 meters) deep. A thick layer of Eau Claire shale sits above the Mount Simon formation, serving as the caprock that helps prevent stored carbon dioxide from escaping. Except for some small regions near the Mississippi River, Eau Claire shale is considerably thick—more than 300 feet (90 meters)—throughout most of the Illinois basin. The estimated storage capacity of the Mount Simon formation ranges from 27 gigatons to 109 gigatons of carbon dioxide. The Google project plans to use an existing injection well site that was part of the first large-scale carbon storage demonstration in the Mount Simon formation. Food producer Archer Daniels Midland began injecting carbon dioxide there from nearby corn processing plants in 2012. Carbon capture and storage has had challenges as the technology developed over the years, including a pipeline rupture in 2020 that forced evacuations in Satartia, Mississippi, and caused several people to lose consciousness. After a recent leak deep underground at the Archer Daniels Midland site in Illinois, the Environmental Protection Agency in 2025 required the company to improve its monitoring. Stored carbon dioxide had migrated into an unapproved area, but no threat to water supplies was reported. Why does CCS matter? Data centers are expanding quickly, and utilities will have to build more power capacity to keep up. The artificial intelligence company OpenAI is urging the U.S. to build 100 gigawatts of new capacity every year—doubling its current rate. Many energy experts, including the International Energy Agency, believe carbon capture and storage will be necessary to slow climate change and keep global temperatures from reaching dangerous levels as energy demand rises. Ramesh Agarwal is a professor of engineering at Washington University in St. Louis. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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