Something strange is happening on Pennsylvania’s playing fields: The smell of freshly cut grass and damp earth is being replaced by the odor of petroleum and repurposed rubber. In urban areas, herbaceous fields are being traded for a groundcovering that fosters neither pollinating life, microbial colonies, nor imagination. The cool ground once suited for enjoying sunny days is being replaced by a mat of potentially scalding hot plastic  that deters city kids from exploring its threads. A skid...

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house Not a surface was untouched by PFAS, not even the couch Stockings were hung by the fireplace with care But microplastics shed so easily from there The gifts stacked high were tenderly wrapped Though compounds that made them shimmer can never be put back And while the merriment made a heartwarming sight These disposable traditions create the planet’s next blight While we may love a scene that sparkles and shines A greater love considers...

On a recent fall morning I stepped out on my porch, coffee in hand, expecting the smell of fall leaves and spruce that usually imbues my rural community only to be met with something entirely different - the overwhelming smell of chlorine .  Running through the possibilities of what this could be, my eyes drifted up to the fracking pad above my home.   It can be hard to trust our nose. Afterall, we decided long ago  that our olfactory senses are inferior to those of our household pets and...