Nature isn't only in a park or wilderness. It’s right outside our door Sometimes it’s on the door or comes inside to find us. Nature is the jumping spider on the screen, the assassin bug in the shower, and the cluster of ladybugs at the lamp. It is the moss on brick where gutters spill, a sycamore sprout in the storm drain, and the trash can lid turned into a bird bath.

Joanna Brichetto is a neurodiverse, late-blooming naturalist with a sharp eye. Despite having chronic illnesses, she spends much of her time exploring nature and has an infectious, almost zealous love for the flora and fauna near and in her Nashville home. In This Is How a Robin Drinks, Brichetto weaves observation, reflection, and commentary with unsentimental wit and an earthy humor into an urban almanac of fifty-two short lyrical essays.

Each piece offers a sketch of everyday wonders in everyday habitat loss. Nature is the dead sparrow in the pickup line at the elementary school, a full moon over the electric substation, and the cicada chorus that doesn’t make a days-long migraine any better (but doesn’t make it any worse either). Nature is under our feet, over our heads, and beside us—the very places we need to know first. Arranged by season, the pieces in this collection celebrate nature—just as it is—on the sidewalk and in the backyard, the park, and the parking lot.

How do we find a way to exist equitably in the world without exhausting our natural and cultural resources? Exploring how to create belonging, among both human and nonhuman animals, is our essential work. Parents have the added responsibility of conveying this charge to their children in a way that centers hope and empowerment over guilt and fear.

In Satellite, Simmons Buntin delves into the idea of belonging—in place, time, family, and community—in sixteen essays written over nearly two decades. The pieces range throughout the desert Southwest, on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border, and as far afield as Mount Saint Helens, eastern Montana, northern Vermont, Sweden, and even the moon (if a telescope atop Kitt Peak counts). Buntin examines the beauty and challenges of raising a family and creating more sustainable communities in the Sonoran Desert—and, more broadly, in any of America’s diverse cultural and ecological landscapes. How should community be defined? How do we protect heritage in an age of globalization? How do we find renewal following personal and place-based trauma? What forms may grace take, and how can parents pass that dignity on to their children?

Fortunately, it is a responsibility both shared and rewarding, funny and phenomenal, for at every turn there is a new discovery, a new insight, a new integration between ourselves and the world that culminates, when we succeed, in a vibrant sense of place. Buntin searches for a balance between the built and natural environments and the beings that inhabit them in a way that enables us not only to survive but to thrive together.

When Jennifer Case became pregnant unexpectedly with her second child, she was overwhelmed at the prospect of caring for another child in a society with high expectations and low support for mothers. She sought to reclaim control over, if not her changing body, then at least her rapidly declining mental health. Immersing herself in research, Case learned that the United States has one of the highest maternal death rates among developed countries. One in every five women develops a mental health issue as a result of pregnancy. It became clear to her that in order to address the sexism and isolation mothers face—including the racism that further marginalizes women of color—we must recognize these as social problems that affect us all

We Are Animals draws attention to these issues by examining key moments in Case’s life where her experience as both a woman in twenty-first-century America and a child-bearing mammal, and the conflicts between these two identities, were brought into sharp relief. From the surprising salve of parasocial interactions on baby forums to the not so surprisingly intertwined history of industrial dairy farming and wearable breast pumps, Case explores an array of realities that give historical and cultural context to the experience of motherhood.

The essays collected here offer a balm for women who have struggled in silence over childbirth trauma, conflicted responses to motherhood, or a deeply felt intuition that what their bodies needed as mothers did not match what society provided. They also offer a much needed, nuanced perspective for policymakers, activists, and medical professionals who continue to shape women’s experience of motherhood.

Out There recounts one man’s search to lead an authentic life, an adventure that takes him all over the world and through some of the biggest societal changes of recent history. From a distance, this could be a typical American story: boy grows up in a religious home, joins the military to defend his country, returns home to attend university, then becomes a firefighter. That would be typical if it weren’t for the fact that he’s gay and was open in places that historically excluded people like him.

As a nineteen-year-old from a fundamentalist family, Lance Garland worked hard to qualify for Navy SEAL training, then sailed across the Pacific on a warship where he met his first boyfriend. After his partner was sexually assaulted by a superior, the two men became witnesses in a court-martial that was complicated by the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. After he was discharged from the Navy, Garland discovered time in nature as a way to heal from the experiences of his youth. While sailing, backpacking ,and climbing in the Pacific Northwest, he navigates the challenges of becoming a first-generation college student, equal rights activist, and the first openly gay fireman in the Seattle fire department.

Out There is a memoir of a man out in the wilderness, both physically and socially, on a journey to find a place to call his own. It is for anyone who has felt like an outsider or hasn’t found their place yet.

The Ecopoetry Anthology is the authoritative book of contemporary American poetry about nature and the environment. Ann Fisher-Wirth and Laura-Gray Street, the editors of the daring first volume, have reunited to create Attached to the Living World. The second anthology explores the issues and conversations in ecopoetry over the past decade and features more than 150 established and emerging poets, including Mildred Barya, Nickole Brown, Simmons Buntin, Lauren Camp, Iris Jamahl Dunkle, Vievee Francis, CMarie Fuhrman, Ross Gay, Erin Hollowell, Marie Howe, Petra Kuppers, J. Drew Lanham, Ada Limόn, Aimee Nezhukumatathil, January Gill O’Neil, Catherine Pierce, Tracy K. Smith, Brian Teare, and Natasha Tretheway. With a foreword by Camille Dungy and an introduction by Margaret Ronda, the poems gathered here provide vital visions to nurture our imaginations and spur us to act.

The anthology delves into the multifaceted ecological crises of our time, highlighting the toxic aftermath of industrial progress and the inequities of environmental racism. It underscores the stark realities faced by communities at the frontline of climate change, emphasizing the overlaps of land degradation and social injustice. Despite themes of loss and devastation, the work is imbued with a current of hope, showcasing poetry’s ability to inspire a reconnection with the natural world. It also amplifies the voices of indigenous poets, offering invaluable perspectives on land stewardship and cultural resilience in the face of ongoing colonial impacts. These contributions speak to the essential role of native knowledge and practices in habitat preservation and cultural survival.

Taken as a whole, the anthology emerges as a powerful call to action, urging collective reflection on our carbon footprint and a shared commitment to sustainable futures. It stands as a profound exploration of the intersections of ecological awareness, social justice, and poetic expression, inviting readers to contemplate their place in the broader web of life.