nature – Letters To Earth

Alameda Encinal Sand Dunes Restoration Project

Dear Earth,

When I first started volunteering at the Encinal sand dunes in Alameda four years ago, I didn’t fully understand how much impact a handful of dedicated people, and a lot of patient weed-pulling, could have on a fragile ecosystem. Back then, the dunes looked tired. Ice plant sprawled across the sand like a heavy blanket, choking out the native species that once thrived here. Even walking the site felt like stepping into a long-forgotten corner of the Bay.

But over time, I’ve seen something incredible happen: the dunes have begun to breathe again.

Every Saturday morning, armed with gloves, a bucket, and a slightly questionable amount of optimism, our small group of volunteers gets to work removing invasive plants like ice plant, mustard, and pampas grass. It’s repetitive, slow, and sometimes pretty exhausting, especially on windy days when the sand stings your ankles. Yet with every weed we pull, we make just a little more room for native species like beach sagewort, California poppies, lupine, and beach bur to reclaim their space.

What I didn’t expect was how quickly those small efforts would add up. Over the years, I’ve watched pockets of bare sand turn into islands of native growth. I’ve seen snowy plovers nest in places that were once covered in invasives. Even the wildlife feels more at home now; lizards dart across the path again, and coastal birds return to forage among plants that evolved alongside them.

One of my favorite moments happened earlier this year. I returned to an area where we had cleared ice plant months before, expecting to see empty sand. Instead, I found a patch of silver beach lupine glowing in the morning light. The contrast was striking: a species that had struggled to survive was now returning on its own, simply because we gave it the chance.

These dunes are more than a weekend project. They’re a lesson in resilience. They’ve taught me that restoration isn’t about instant results. It’s about trust. Trust that ecosystems remember how to heal. Trust that consistent care, even when it feels small, matters. And trust that community stewardship can transform a landscape.

Live, Laugh, Love,

Jessica Ngok 🌏

Poison Hemlock

What’s up!

Back at the Huckleberry Botanical Preserve on a chilly, muddy morning was an experience that combined both hard work and a deep appreciation for nature. My task for the day was to remove poison hemlock, a notorious invasive plant that poses significant risks to local ecosystems and human health. As I pulled the plants from the earth, I couldn’t help but reflect on the historical significance of this species. Poison hemlock is infamously linked to the death of the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates, who was sentenced to drink a concoction containing this toxic plant.

This connection adds a layer of intrigue to my work, reminding me that the natural world is intertwined with human history in profound ways. The presence of poison hemlock in our environment is a pressing concern for conservationists and botanists alike. This plant, with its delicate white flowers and fern-like leaves, may appear innocuous at first glance, but it is highly toxic to both humans and animals. Its invasive nature allows it to spread rapidly, outcompeting native flora and disrupting local ecosystems.

By volunteering to remove this plant, I felt a sense of purpose, contributing to the preservation of the botanical preserve and helping to restore balance to the local environment. Each hemlock I uprooted was a small victory against the encroachment of invasive species that threaten biodiversity. Engaging in this hands-on conservation work not only educated me about the challenges posed by invasive plants but also fostered a deeper connection to the land. The muddy conditions of the morning added a layer of authenticity to the experience, reminding me that environmental stewardship often requires hard work and perseverance. Volunteering in such a capacity is a powerful reminder of our role in protecting the natural world, and I encourage others to seek out similar opportunities to engage with and learn from their local environments.

Live.Laugh.Love

Jessica Ngok

Gulkana Glacier-pH Research

Spending ten days in the vast, icy expanse of Alaska’s Gulkana Glacier was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. During this research expedition, I had the incredible opportunity to study something that might seem simple on the surface—pH levels. Our hypothesis investigated whether elevation influenced shifts in pH levels or not. Reassuringly, our travel route gave direct access to our question as we hiked from trailhead→base camp→ high camp; with a total of more than 5,000 feet incline, the data collected provided enough information to draw a conclusion.

Collecting the data wasn’t easy. Since pH can change quickly after sample collection, we had to test it right away, often while standing in snow with numb fingers and wind cutting across the ice. But despite the discomfort, the urgency of our work felt real and important. It reminded me that science doesn’t always happen in labs—it often starts in the wild, with cold hands and a curious mind.

We wrapped up the last day with research presentations at the University of Fairbanks. The crowd consisted of many glaciologists, donors, scientists, and just so many supporting people. One of the most thought-provoking questions we received during our post-expedition presentation was: “Why do you think pH is important?”

At first glance, pH might just seem like a basic chemistry concept. But out there, standing in freezing temperatures, surrounded by nothing but ice, snow, and silence, it became clear how essential it is. pH helps us detect subtle changes in the environment—changes that can reveal human impact, even in places where it feels like people have never stepped foot.

Glaciers are often thought of as pristine. But our pH results, which mostly fell in the 6–7 range (slightly acidic to neutral), hinted that these ecosystems are not as isolated as they appear. Pollution can travel through the air and settle into glacier ice, altering its chemistry over time. These small shifts in pH can affect everything from microbial life in the meltwater to the long-term health of downstream ecosystems.

This experience taught me that research is not only about the data you collect, but the questions it raises. How much have we already changed remote ecosystems without realizing it? And what responsibility do we have to protect places like the Gulkana Glacier?

Here’s the link to the presentation: Glacial pH Presentation

Love,

Jessica Ngok 🌍

Girls on Ice*Alaska Expedition

Dear Earth,

Long time no see.

I just returned from my expedition in Alaska—and wow, what an adventure it was. I crossed glacial rivers so cold they made my bones ache, climbed over moraines that felt like ancient staircases built by time itself, and carried science gear through terrain that demanded every ounce of strength and curiosity I had. It was raw, intense, and beautiful.

But I won’t lie—the first two days were rough. I felt completely out of my element. No phone, no warm bed, no easy way to talk to my family. The days were long and unfamiliar, the bugs relentless, and I remember lying in my sleeping bag wondering why I’d come at all. I missed home, missed the comfort of a hot meal and a familiar routine. My muscles ached in ways I didn’t know were possible, and I found myself silently counting the days until it would be over.

But slowly, something shifted. I got used to the cold fingers in the morning and the weight of my pack. I began to see the rhythm of this new lifestyle—the simplicity, the quiet, the way everything I needed was on my back or beside me in the team. The discomfort faded, and in its place came awe.

Because beyond the physical challenge, what truly left a mark on me was the community. I met the most incredible people—strong, kind, brilliant individuals who care about you deeply, Earth. We shared stories under a sky that never really got dark, and we laughed in the face of rainstorms and sore muscles. Together, we learned how to observe you with scientific eyes and an open heart. We tested glacial runoff, studied sediment layers, and tried to understand how your ancient rhythms are changing with the warming climate.

There’s something grounding about being so close to your untouched corners. In those moments—whether freezing in a river or journaling by the fire—you reminded me that science is not just data, but connection. It’s feeling the crunch of gravel underfoot and knowing it tells a story that predates us.

I miss the stillness. I miss the wild. I miss you, Earth, in your unfiltered form.

Until the next adventure,
With love and bruised knees,
Jessica Ngok

Science or Speculation? The Earth Has a Heartbeat?

Dear Earth,

Recently, scientists have started using the term “Earth’s heartbeat” to describe the natural cycles and patterns our planet goes through—like ocean currents, seasons, and polar ice cycles. These rhythms usually keep the planet stable, almost like how a steady heartbeat keeps a person alive and well. But now, these rhythms are changing—and climate change is a major reason why.

The Arctic, in particular, is warming nearly four times faster than the rest of the world. This extreme shift in temperature is melting ice caps and glaciers at a rapid rate. That ice used to reflect sunlight back into space, helping to keep the planet cool. But as more ice melts, more heat gets absorbed by the dark ocean water, which causes even more warming—a dangerous feedback loop.

These kinds of dramatic changes are disrupting Earth’s “heartbeat.” Patterns that once repeated reliably—like seasonal sea ice or predictable weather systems—are now becoming irregular or disappearing altogether. Some scientists believe this shift in natural cycles could be a sign that we’re reaching a tipping point, where the damage becomes much harder to reverse.

So when we talk about the Earth’s heartbeat, it’s more than just a metaphor. It’s a way of understanding how deeply climate change is affecting our planet. What’s happening in the Arctic doesn’t stay in the Arctic—it affects global weather, sea levels, and even ecosystems thousands of miles away. It’s a serious reminder that we’re all connected to the planet’s rhythms, and right now, those rhythms are being thrown dangerously off balance.

So when we talk about the Earth’s heartbeat, it’s more than just a metaphor. It’s a way of understanding how deeply climate change is affecting our planet. What’s happening in the Arctic doesn’t stay in the Arctice–it affects global weather, sea levels, and even ecosystems thousands of miles away. It’s a serious reminder that we’re all connected to the planet’s rhythms, and right now, those rhythms are being thrown dangerously off balance.

Love,

Jessica Ngok

Trump’s Lumber Slaughter

Dear Earth,

I would like to start off by saying that I just absolutely bombed my first SAT. But honestly, as much as I want to crawl into bed and rot for the next 24 hours, I’m way too fueled with rage to sit quietly right now.

Let me cut to the chase: Trump. Forests. Tariffs. Disaster.

If you care about the Earth — and I mean truly care about it, not in a “save the turtles” trendy way but in a genuine “I care about the planet and our future generations” way — then buckle up because this is about to infuriate you.

Trump’s “brilliant” plan (and I use that word very loosely) involves slapping a hefty tariff on Canadian lumber imports. Now, you may be thinking, okay… and? Well, the result of this is that American businesses, desperate for wood, will turn to our own forests. The same forests that shelter wildlife, regulate carbon dioxide, and literally keep our planet alive. Trump’s logic? Why pay for lumber from our friendly northern neighbor when we can just destroy our own forests? Genius, right?

Hundreds of acres. Gone.
Forests that took centuries to grow. Gone.
Habitats for countless species. Gone.

And for what? To inflate America’s economy through deforestation? So Trump can act like he’s “saving America” while simultaneously driving us into a climate catastrophe? I don’t think so.

It’s already bad enough that we’re losing forests at alarming rates due to climate change, fires, and illegal logging — but now, Trump wants to legalize this destruction through his administration’s forest-clearing policies. You can’t tell me that doesn’t boil your blood.

And the thing is — it’s not even about us anymore. It’s about the animals, the soil, the water, and the literal air we breathe. Every tree cut down for profit means another hit to our planet’s lungs. But of course, none of this crosses Trump’s mind. Because why care about the environment when you can slap tariffs on Canada and call it a day?

I am TIRED. Tired of pretending that things like this aren’t happening. Tired of watching world leaders prioritize power and money over the only home we have. Tired of watching forests get slaughtered like they’re meaningless when, in reality, they are our survival.

So yeah. I may have bombed my SAT this morning, but at least I still have my common sense intact. Can’t say the same for the man who is determined to leave our planet in shambles.

If you care about the Earth — and I mean really care — then don’t sit quietly about this. Speak up. Vote. Educate yourself. Because the forests may not have a voice, but we do.

And right now? Our forests are screaming.

Peace. Love. Earth,

Jessica Ngok 🌎

L.A. Fires: Plants are a Ticking Bomb

Dear Earth,

The wildfires in Los Angeles have become a pressing concern, drawing attention to the complex interplay between climate change and natural vegetation. While climate change undeniably exacerbates the conditions that lead to these devastating fires—such as prolonged droughts, higher temperatures, and erratic weather patterns—the primary culprits behind the flames are the chaparral plants that dominate the region. These hardy, drought-resistant shrubs are well-adapted to the Mediterranean climate of Southern California, but they also possess a high oil content, making them particularly flammable. When conditions are dry and hot, these plants can ignite easily, leading to rapid fire spread.

Photo is adapted from: https://emsherbals.com/blogs/news/premium-harvest-chaparral

In addition to the inherent flammability of chaparral, the changing climate has created an environment where these fires can thrive. The increasing frequency and intensity of heatwaves, coupled with reduced rainfall, have created a perfect storm for wildfires. As the climate continues to warm, the window for fire season expands, allowing for more extended periods of vulnerability. This means that even areas that may have previously been safe from wildfires are now at risk, as the chaparral plants become more susceptible to ignition during these extreme weather events.

Moreover, the impact of human activity cannot be overlooked in this equation. Urban development encroaches on natural landscapes, increasing the likelihood of human-caused ignitions. As more people move into fire-prone areas, the potential for accidental fires rises, further complicating the already challenging situation. The combination of climate change, the natural characteristics of chaparral, and human influence creates a multifaceted problem that requires comprehensive strategies for fire management and prevention. Addressing these issues is crucial for protecting both the environment and the communities that lie in the path of these relentless fires.

Peace. Love. Earth.,

Jessica Ngok 🌎

Huckleberry Botanic Regional Preserve: Volunteering with Nature’s Wonders

It was early on a chilly Sunday morning when I arrived at Huckleberry Botanic Regional Preserve, not really knowing what to expect but excited to help out. The air was cold, and I could see my breath as I walked into the park. The sun was barely rising, and the light made everything look golden and peaceful. I had a feeling that this day was going to be something special.

The preserve was beautiful, way more than I expected—but what really surprised me was learning about the ladybug migration that happens here every year. These little ladybugs come all the way from the Sierra Mountains just to hang out at Huckleberry for the winter. They travel so far and in such huge numbers, and it’s crazy to think that this park is their chosen spot. I’ve never seen so many ladybugs in one place before! They were everywhere, on leaves, branches, and even crawling around in the grass.

No one is 100% sure why they come all the way to this specific spot, but it has something to do with the cool coastal climate and all the plants that make the area perfect for them. Watching them move together in swarms made me realize how important it was to keep this place in good condition for them and other wildlife that call it home.

After hearing about the ladybugs, we got to work. Our main job for the day was pulling out invasive weeds. At first, I wasn’t sure how pulling weeds could make much of a difference, but I quickly learned that these non-native plants take over the area and make it hard for the native plants to grow. The native plants are super important because they support the whole ecosystem, including the ladybugs and other wildlife. So, pulling those weeds wasn’t just about cleaning up the park, it was helping to protect the entire environment.

Pulling weeds sounds easy, but it’s actually hard work! Some of the roots were really deep, and it took a lot of effort to get them out. But with every weed I yanked out of the ground, I felt like I was helping, even in a small way. I took breaks now and then to look around at the park. The green hills, the trees, and all the plants just looked so alive. It felt good to be outside, away from screens, and doing something positive for the environment.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. My hands were dirty, and I was covered in mud, but I also felt proud. Even though I had only spent a few hours at Huckleberry, I knew I had made a difference. It felt good knowing that I had helped preserve this place for the ladybugs and all the other creatures that depend on it.

Volunteering at Huckleberry Botanic Regional Preserve taught me that even small actions, like pulling a weed, can make a big impact. And after seeing all those ladybugs that traveled so far just to stay here, I realized how important it is to protect places like this. Nature has its own way of working, and sometimes we just need to give it a little help.