Nature's beauty is a deeply personal experience, shaping us in ways both explainable and unexplainable. The rustling of leaves, the babbling of brooks, the scent of pine — these sensory experiences are more than a mere backdrop to our lives, they are treasures. They are a reminder of the wonders that surround us, the blessings we so often take for granted. Clean air, clean water, and healthy forests are the lifeblood of our planet.
As we celebrate Earth Day, I find myself reflecting on the place that grew me into the environmentalist I am today: northern Minnesota, Land of 10,000 Lakes.
Where I grew up, the nights are quiet, stars are bright and cell service is hard to come by. Fortunately, my family enjoys easy access to the outdoors, and we all relish in connecting with nature in our own unique ways. For my dad, time spent outside often meant walking my siblings and me through the woods on his father’s property, showing us the signs of a healthy forest and pointing out the wildlife that called it home. It wasn’t enough for us to spend time out in nature, my siblings and I had to understand it.
His lessons inspired my sister and I to connect deeper with the woods, compelling us to join him for hunting season. The first year he insisted we simply sit with him and observe. We’d wake before dawn while the sky was black and trudge through the woods, trying not to make a sound. As the first light of day broke through the trees, my dad would pour himself a cup of disgusting black coffee from a battered old thermos, and we'd turn up our noses at the smell. He was thoughtful enough to buy us a newer, but matching thermos filled with warm apple tea, which we sipped eagerly as we watched and learned from our surroundings.
The next year, my dad made it clear that we weren't allowed in the stand until we were excellent shots – by his standards, not ours. His standard of perfection was very annoying to a teenager, but it paid off. The first deer I harvested dropped to the ground with one shot, its heart split in two. I understood immediately why dad insisted on excellent marksmanship. Hunting is about a relationship between the marksman and nature, and it’s our job to ensure the animal doesn’t suffer.
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While time with my dad was often spent in the woods, my mothers side preferred the water.
One of my most cherished pieces of home is the home of my maternal grandparents', nestled just a short walk from one of Minnesota's idyllic lakes. As a child, I relished the chance to join neighborhood friends on the lakeshore, watching in awe as the older kids swam out to a large rock beneath the water's surface, climbed atop, and jumped off, plunging into the lake's depths. For those of us too small or timid to venture so far, we busied ourselves collecting shells and rocks, digging moats in the sand, and reveling in the simple pleasures of youth. One fateful day, after venturing to a muddy part of the shore, I emerged from the water with a disgusting “squish” on my leg. My grandpa informed me it was a leech, and calmly plucked it off, much to my horror. He was unfazed by my bleeding, while I was convinced I would die from the ordeal. Thankfully, I lived to write about it.
Despite this concerning experience, I spent countless hours in Minnesota’s waters. Summer brought camping trips on the north shore and lazy river days with friends, while Minnesota’s signature harsh winters painted a landscape of extremes, both unforgiving and mesmerizing. On his first trip to the tundra, my now-husband was astonished that not only could we walk on top of frozen lakes, but trucks routinely drove across them to set up fishing camps.
Today, I carry the lessons learned in the North Star State with me, always. I have the privilege of working for an organization that champions not only environmentalism, but local environmentalism. We recognize the importance of being connected to the nature in your own backyard. While a local clean-up or tree-planting won’t solve all of climate change, it’s inherently valuable as a demonstration of devotion to the places and people we love. Just as my father taught me personality responsibility and stewardship, we teach our activists to care for their communities through local action.
In northern Minnesota, clean water and healthy forests are paramount for thriving communities.
As residents of this beautiful region, it is our duty to protect and steward these natural resources for future generations. We cannot afford to think of our planet as just one day a year; we must take ownership and action in our own communities.
It's not an easy task, but it's a necessary one if we want to preserve the natural beauty of our home. All environmental challenges, at their core, are local challenges, and for the love of our home, we must treat them as such.
Danielle Butcher Franz is the executive vice president at the American Conservation Coalition. She grew up in the Brainerd lakes area and attended Pine River-Backus High School.
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