In this Earth Day reflection, Calibre water resources engineer Charlotte George draws from her roots on a Kansas farm and her passion for environmental engineering to explore how small, intentional actions can create lasting impact. Inspired by family, nature, and community, Charlotte reminds us that while no one can do everything, each of us can help shape a better world—starting right where we are.
I’m experimenting with how I start seeds this spring. Some sprouted in damp paper towels; some went directly into plastic spinach containers filled with soil. Either way, I hope to see lots of flower and herb sprouts in my miniature greenhouse in a few weeks.
My parents taught me how to start seeds in old egg cartons when I was growing up. Once the sprouts grew into healthy starter plants, my parents would plant them in our vegetable garden. Our garden was once a part of the native Kansas prairie, and the earth did not forget it. Brome grass and black-eyed susans grew right alongside the potatoes and corn. The prairie sunflowers were often taller than the ones we planted. Both the garden and the prairie surrounding it hummed with bees and butterflies every summer. Kansas is on the main migration route for monarch butterflies, so my mother planted milkweed in her flower garden to attract them. As I got older, I took over the gardening responsibilities. It was a chore to hack through the weeds every morning, but the harvest was always worth it.
I left and went to school for environmental engineering in Colorado, hoping to learn about how to protect the natural world. Instead, I got a deeper understanding of how deeply entrenched our destructive habits are in every aspect of our lives. It was difficult to find consolation about this during college.
So what could I do? I tried to find respite in the idea that a person cannot change the world, but they can leave their corner of it better than they found it. It was interesting to learn that small acts of conservation can help abate Colorado’s water crisis. Even simple steps, like not watering lawns in the afternoon, contribute by not making the problem worse. No one can do everything, but we can all help in our own way.
I also decided to take comfort from my roots. I loved gardening in the summers of my youth, and I took it with me when I went to college. One year, I grew fava beans with other engineering students for an Earth Day activity. My bean sprout grew tall and lanky in my dorm window, soaking up the little sunlight it could reach. It blossomed and produced a few pods.
My family back home continued to inspire me. My parents converted the vegetable garden into a flower garden for the pollinators. They still planted the staples—corn, tomatoes, and potatoes—but they added zinnias, coneflowers, and milkweed for the pollinators. My mother watched the monarchs closely as they perused her flower garden. She found a monarch egg, took care of it, and released a beautiful butterfly in the fall. It was always refreshing to come home and see the prairies and gardens full of life.
I’m so encouraged by my parents and the responsibility they’ve taken for the environment around them. This spring, I was more careful about selecting seeds that would do well in the arid Colorado climate. Drought-resistant, pollinator-friendly, milkweed, zinnias, dill, and marigolds. I hope that my flowers will provide respite for the bees and butterflies weary from their travels through the city. Perhaps the blossoms will make my neighbors smile throughout the summer.
I cannot give up on this world. I will do whatever I can to protect it, hoping that my neighbors will do the same.
