As spring unfolds and loosens leaves from buds, I'm remembering how our lives revolve around plants, and how the lives of plants revolve around the sun, and how we all revolve around each other on a sphere that revolves around an axis that dictates the happenings of each of our days.

I find comfort in these orbits that spin larger than ourselves, but that also permeate each of our cells, each of us a sack of circadian rhythms that, every day, turns to the sun for direction.

I turn to the weeping willow behind my house and see a window to decades past, when the tree's young buds opened to a cow pasture, and then to an apple orchard, and then to the small fraction of yard that I tend today. I see these passing shifts in the landscape like pages in a flipbook, the tree rooted in place as everything around it revolves, rises and falls. Through all of that change, the tree keeps knowing what to do, keeps responding to the same cues that bring the woodcocks squawking and the chickadees singing and the peepers screaming in the wetland down the road. The same rising light that pulls my face up.

I turn my face to the sun and I remember the layers and dimensions of time, how the willow is decades older than me, and how trees are thousands of millennia older than humans. But that, even in their antiquity, these limbed growths have existed for only a small fraction of Earth's entire history. That for the more than 90 percent of those 4.54 billion years, Earth did not know roots or buds, leaves or stems. No clanking branches, no leaves shivering on wind.

When I wake up to this view from deep time, I see trees in a different light. These wise old growths appear cute and funny in their soft and knobby planetary youth. I see that we are all such recent visitors here, that we have only just arrived. And that what tethers us together, what energizes us through each of our days, is our constant revolution, our spinning on an axis that whips around a sun.

This year, Earth Day turns 55 years old. The planet has seen and withstood a lot of change in those five and a half decades, including the rise and fall and rise and fall again of movements to take care of this place. On this Earth Day (Tuesday, April 22), I will remember how fortunate we are to be here. How this planet spun around the sun more than 4.5 billion times before giving us a shot at existence. How foolish we would be not to recognize that privilege, not to spend our days working to care for the sphere that sustains us.

For stories of people actively doing that work, I recommend these two newsletters:

Conservation WorksNews & ideas for ecological repairBy Michelle Nijhuis

WHAT IF WE GET IT RIGHT?Forward-looking musings on climate & culture from a scientist and policy nerd.By Ayana Elizabeth Johnson

I'm so looking forward to be celebrating Earth Day at SPACE Gallery next week! We’ll start with a conversation with authors Brandon Keim and Cara Giaimo followed by a performance by Cara’s band, sidebody. Come dance/discuss/celebrate with us!

Tickets and more info here:

The July 15th launch of my book, Strata: Stories from Deep Time, is less than three months away! The first review rolled out this week, and I’m starting to line up some launch events, including:

July 16 | Portland, ME

July 17 | Cambridge, MA

July 21 | Brooklyn, NY

And more…

Stay tuned for details on these and other events in the months ahead.

And if you’re compelled to preorder a copy, please do so! Early sales go a long way in supporting the longevity of a book, and you can help support a local independent bookstore along the way — just call your favorite shop and let them know you’d like a copy.

Thanks so much for following along. I hope you get to spend some time in the sun this weekend ☼.