In honour of Earth Day celebrated on the 22nd of April, we invited diverse individuals to pen love messages to planet Earth. We’ve shared their heartfelt words below.
Zoe Devlin:
Acclaimed author of “The Wildflowers of Ireland: A Field Guide”
Kind Earth,
My fondness for you began from the moment I could utter your name. During my early days, your summer chorus of grasshoppers filled me with joy, while I devoted time to making intricate daisy chains, discerning time via dandelion clocks, and serenading ladybirds.
As I bloomed, I became more enamoured with your fields, hedges, and particularly your wild flora. My whole life revolves around these elements, appreciating the nurturing ground they spring from, and longing for their continuous growth. From the avian creatures, to the moths, butterflies, and the expansive seas, mountain ranges, and skies – I adore them all.
My only desire now is for future generations to acquire the same Earth I did seventy years ago, healthy and intact.
My commitment to you is to remind everyone that nature isn’t just goods for trade, that lush woods don’t exist merely for forest bathing fans and that hedges aren’t just the forager’s domain. I will ensure your protection and preservation is at the forefront of everyone’s agenda before it’s too late.
Dr Elaine McGoff:
Leader of advocacy at An Taisce
Dear Earth,
Can you recollect our past free-spirited, joy-filled, wild relationship? Back when your stingy nettles and bright blossoms were familiar to me.
At present, you’ve been commercialised and politicised, dwindled and sanitised. And my thoughts are consumed with this fight for your preservation, your swiftly vanishing glory. However, there are moments when I yearn for your raw, unspoiled form and fulfill this longing by immersing myself in your rivers and taking a plunge in your oceans.
Sometimes, I desire insensitivity towards the constant diminishment of life, seemingly invisible to many. However, I am aware and refuse to turn a blind eye. Trust that there are increasingly more individuals like me. We might feel ineffectual, but we are a collective force.
Catherine Cleary, a co-founding figure of Pocket Forests, has composed a poignant letter expressing her profound gratitude towards Mother Earth. She expresses awe over how everything needed for survival – every inhalation of air, water droplet, and sustenance – is essentially provided by the Earth. She puts into perspective the skewed values of society that worships billionaires while often forgetting about the seemingly boundless generosity of their planet. Notwithstanding our distraction by shiny gadgets and detached living, she assures that the Earth, like a doting mother, waits patiently for us to re-discover our bond, emanating the true strength that lies in nurturing.
She reminisces about the undeniable, primordial bond established between her body and our planet, evident through her experiences – be it walking shoeless on icy sand or bearing witness to an avian’s grand melody in flight, or even watching an unassuming twig sprout vibrant leaves. Despite our negligent behavior, the Earth’s charms remain unscathed. Conscious of the harsh reality of humans wreaking untold havoc on their planet, she insists that it’s not too late to right their wrongs. By paying careful attention and envisioning a time of rejuvenated bonds and recuperating wounds, she believes reconciliation is possible. She hails the generations that preceded us, who left behind a smaller carbon footprint and commends the Earth for enduring as our patient, unyielding home.
Seán Ronayne, an Ornithologist, has also penned a love letter to the Earth, extending his gratitude for the planet’s incessant offerings since his birth. His childhood memories are predominantly colored by the enveloping, all-natural experience whilst in the company of his father and grandfather. To have absorbed the Earth’s essence like a sponge, he remarks, remains unchanged till date.
Every summer, I eagerly await the return of our swallows and whitethroats, listening to their tales of adventure from their winter holidays in Africa. The sight of the woods blooming after their winter’s rest fills me with exultation. Each winter, I anticipate hearing the majestic calls of the white whooper swans, fleeing the severe cold of Iceland. I look forward to the arrival of the enormous flocks of redwing from the woods of Scandinavia, who come to feast on our hawthorn berries. You bestow me with hope, comfort, certainty, marvel, purpose, structure, and vitality.
However, it is with regret that I acknowledge the damage we have caused. You surely have experienced more glorious days. I posit that a large majority of us will defend you, and I hope that our ranks will grow. Our future lies in your existence.
Yours sincerely,
Clare Heardman
Manager of Conservation, National Parks and Wildlife Service, Region of Cork
Dear Mother Earth,
I am privileged to work in one of your most unique corners. Glengarriff, with its rocky mountains, forested valley, and protected marine harbour. A pair of white-tailed eagles incubate their eggs, a woodpecker drums: two species, once vanished from Ireland making a comeback. Seals bask on the rocks, completely gratified. The uncommon Kerry slugs feed on mosses and lichens from the fern-filled oak. Lesser horseshoe bats awaken from their winter slumber, facing the world afresh. A freshwater pearl mussel roots itself a 100-year home in purified river gravels. The woodland floor sparkles with the spring beauty of yellow celandine, white wood anemone and golden saxifrage.
And I? Merely another creature in these woods. Aiming to tread gently. I carry a duty to ensure that the generations following me might forge an even better bond with you than I have. That we can restore your stripped surfaces to woodland once more and repopulate them. That people can cherish your astounding natural variety, from the minute zooplankton in the depths of Bantry Bay to the eagles gliding above the Caha Mountains. I cannot exist without you. Nobody can.
Yours sincerely,
Jack Rogers
Boyne Rivers Trust
Dear Mother Earth,
On the occasion of Earth Day, I yearn to observe the millions of years that helped shape you from the standpoint of an onlooker. The vistas of your jagged terrestrial formations rising from the azure ocean often leads us to underestimate how unique this fragile biosphere is within the infinite expanse of the universe.
Our predecessors may have comprehended you better than we do, venerating your cycles of seasons, and chiselling stones to hint at your profound secrets. But now, your precious blue crust warms at a terrifying rate due to our own rapacity and errors. I earnestly wish that we begin to recognize ourselves as integral to your marvel as we voyage through this immense vacuum of space.
Anja Murray,
Environmentalist, broadcaster, and Wild Embrace author.
Dear Planet Earth,
I felt the need to convey that, despite all the mishaps, I harbour deep affection for you. I am flabbergasted by your ability to create such abundance from meagre beginnings.
How did you conceive the thought of coaxing the sun’s photons to activate chlorophyll molecules? And then to conjure forests and life-brimming oceans to cover your stark form? Did you foreknow that trees and plankton would eventually foster a layer of gases to protect us all and maintain stability?
You’ve bestowed upon us all we needed to prosper. One aspect I greatly admire about you is the early morning melody amongst the hazel trees and anemone woods. Perhaps also, the butterflies.
I find your sense of humour delightful. The sight of a puffin never fails to bring a smile to my face.
Merely expressing gratitude feels insufficient, but I’ll extend it nonetheless. My love for you will persist even though it’s heartbreaking to witness the increasing neglect you suffer. I wish your miracles were more valued, then perhaps you wouldn’t be treated so unjustly.
Lisa O’Neill,
Songstress
Greetings, Mother Nature,
Have you rested sufficiently? I thought I caught your lament last night, or it might’ve been just the wind whistling through the chimney. The wind accumulates like a furious stream confined within a cavity when the stove is vacant and the night is tempestuous. You advised me against using coal briquettes, for they were detrimental to us. I heeded your instruction, but I doubt if this small change has made any significant impact.
Dear Mother Earth,
I journeyed, via air transportation, all the way to the southernmost point of your expansive body and was shocked by the intense extremity of the heat. It concerns me greatly, Mother, worrying for your wellbeing. Admittedly, it’s not surprising that your feet suffer from such overheating, I’m astounded at your perseverance, continuing to bear the scorching conditions. The reservoir of wisdom amassed throughout your existence courses through the river-like veins that span your entirety, but they appear strained under the current circumstances.
Your left foot is shod by Australia, your right by South America. Once, your right foot was lush with rainforest, each element of your being coexisting harmoniously, forming a symphony of balanced relationships. Now, only two appendages remain on your right foot, and a singular toe on your left has been marred with mining excavations. Mother, how are we to be guided without your clear footprints to lead us?
Yvonne Buckley, Professor of Zoology, Trinity College Dublin
To our precious Earth,
Is there a room available for love in the rigid walls of science? I dedicated my life to studying the great abundance you offer— documenting adversities and hurdles, creating solutions, and conveying these to change advocates. Is it possible for a medical practitioner to love her patient? It’s possible on a conceptual level if not a personal one. My fondness for the serene tranquillity nature offers, the intricate melodies of birds, the smell of damp foliage, and the light touch of ladybirds grips me indeed.
I cherish how your web of life supports my existence, purifying water, providing nutritious sustenance, and establishing a hospitable climate. I am confident that this emotion is love, evinced by the serenity I experience when reconnecting with nature after an absence, contrasted by the ache I feel observing the harm wrought on you, our shared world.
Matt Smith, Chief Executive of Hometree
To our cherished Planet,
Perhaps the most sincere letter addressed to you would be one devoid of words, one replete with attentive stillness, simple existence, silent observation, and mutual consciousness. You embody the ceaseless ocean, the towering mountain, and the endless river. As one of your children, my existence is tangled, multi-layered, and complicated. Yet, despite that, fragments of me recall your essence, and I observe that small segments of your eternal essence are acknowledged by my peers.
Donagh Quigley, Irish Handmade Soap Company,
To our beloved Planet Earth.
In my younger years, my father and I would often handle the salmon traps situated on the Boyne river. We would routinely haul in fish that measured more than 3 feet and weighed in excess of 15lb.
Now, such fish are almost non-existent.
Fond memories exist of extended car journeys as we journeyed across the country to visit family, the front screen of our Toyota Starlet cluttered with remnants of deceased insects.
Those insects are now nearly extinct.
As I’ve matured, my understanding of this swiftly altering planet we reside on has tried to keep pace. I have sought to grasp why such rapid changes are occurring, while simultaneously yearning for the planet I was familiar with during childhood.
With increased consciousness comes understanding, and with understanding comes wisdom. It’s the wisdom of age that brings about an accountability to make amends for my existence and for past generations, who have, at times positively but mostly negatively, shaped the world into which I was introduced.
My duty is now to leave a legacy for future prosperity. On the day when my children inevitably ask me, “Father, what action did you take when you knew our world was in chaos?”, I ought to be prepared with a response.
Because regardless of our presence or absence, Earth, you will persist.