On Earth Day, we find ourselves reflecting on the beauty and miracle that is nature. All that we create here at LESSE was inspired by this bright, blue planet and the healing abilities of its botanicals.

This year, we wanted to mark the moment with a feature on four women whose commitment to the Earth continues to inspire us. Their thoughts remind us that protecting our planet is not the result of one gesture, but many; collectively and continuously practiced.

"Nature shapes my daily life through the practice of following my own natural rhythms. I try to keep my perspective zoomed out, holding the larger picture in mind, staying aware that things are always changing and developing at every moment — holding on loosely, while also paying close attention to the small details that quietly influence everything else. Much like nature itself, I try to honor that duality, the light and the dark, the seen and the unseen, and find my place within it rather than against it. Thinking from a place of sustainability is important to me because the alternative (operating extractively) is signing yourself up for inevitable failure. When something is constantly being taken from without pause, it never has the chance to replenish. Sustainable and regenerative practices require more patience, but they ultimately yield greater rewards for everyone involved.

When I was new to composting, I spotted a shopping cart full of perfectly good produce sitting in the back of an Erewhon, about to be thrown out. It infuriated me. That moment sent me down a rabbit hole researching what actually happens to our green waste, the realities of landfills, and the amount of misinformation that exists around sustainability practices. That discovery ultimately led to the inception of the Dirt Girls concept, and it has been our ethos ever since: divert as much as possible away from the waste stream.

What gives me hope now is that the soil itself is making a comeback in public consciousness. For decades, soil was treated as a substrate, not a living system. That's changing fast, and when people start understanding that a teaspoon of healthy soil contains more living organisms than there are people on Earth, something shifts in how they relate to the ground beneath them."

"I make things and spaces. Sustainability informs lots of little decisions we make in day-to-day working life. But actually, I think sustainability should not be of personal significance, or maybe that it should not be related to personal action, but that we should all think of sustainability as collective action, something we participate in as a point of collective pride. I would love to see sustainability crossover with patriotism more. Domestic production, supporting local industry, taking care of our air quality, and thinking about our food sources.

Growing up in the 1990s and 2000s has made environmental issues a part of daily dialogue, the context in which I have come to understand and know the world. The future of sustainability and environmental protection is in the hands of CEOs and legislators. That's a hard one to square in the short term, so I find hope in the long term. Understanding history as a dialectical ontology gives me hope. I'm banking on tidal shifts in collective behavior and long-term changes in the mindset of future generations. Kids are growing up with a radically more palpable, technical, and realistic sense of climate change than 30 years ago, and that gives me hope."

"Nature is all relationship. A continuous two-way exchange between oneself and the world around us, across both animate and inanimate beings. Like a dear friendship, our relationship with the Earth asks for tending, attention, and time spent in close intimacy. For me, that happens in slow, solitary mornings in the garden, often with my hands in the soil, learning how plants grow, fruit, and become resilient through their own web of conditions and exchanges. Over time, we don't just learn about nature, we begin to attune to it. A sense of kinship forms that deepens into care, and eventually, into love. The Earth gives us so much love and beauty — everything we need not just to survive, but to flourish. Choosing to create in non-extractive ways feels like a way of being in reciprocity with that, an expression of care and gratitude in return.

In 2020, I spent time volunteering at a small permaculture farm deep in the Northern California forest. Our days were spent in simple, physical rhythms — milking goats, harvesting food still warm from the sun, composting, and tending the land — while also learning practices of non-violent communication and more compassionate ways of living alongside one another. Being forced to leave because of the wildfires shifted something in me. What I had been experiencing as harmony and abundance suddenly felt fragile, and under threat. That moment clarified a sense of responsibility, not just to appreciate the Earth, but to participate more consciously in how I live, create, and contribute to its care. Caring for the Earth is no longer seen as an added effort; it's becoming something we practice as essential, even joyful."

"Living in Los Angeles, nature shows up in subtle but pretty powerful ways. I'm always noticing the light, the landscape, and I love being close to the ocean. It's a constant reminder that we're part of something bigger. That mindset carries into the work I do. I've been working in manufacturing my entire adult life, and it's staggering how quickly things get thrown away these days. Use what you already have for longer. It sounds simple, but it really matters, especially with clothing. Not just buying less, but buying better, taking care of things, repairing what you love, and passing things on when you're done. All of that helps move us away from this disposable mindset.

What gives me hope is that there's more curiosity now about how products are made and where they come from. You can feel a shift toward valuing quality, transparency, and longevity over constant newness. It's slow, but once that kind of shift starts, it can really change the status quo."