Earth Day 2026 arrives less than a week after Wisconsin was battered by a succession of unseasonably severe thunderstorms, hail and tornadoes. A lack of snow in the West this winter has raised fears of an especially difficult wildfire season — raising air quality concerns across the Upper Midwest this summer. The administration of President Donald Trump has made drastic changes to the budget and structure of agencies such as the EPA and U.S. Forest Service, reducing staff at agencies that manage air and water quality and protect public lands. 

Nearly 60 years after Earth Day was founded by Wisconsin Gov. Gaylord Nelson, environmental advocates and elected officials celebrated the holiday noting the state, often labeled a “climate haven” for its easy access to fresh water and northern location, is not immune from the damaging effects of climate change. Still, they said, there are small victories happening every day across the state. 

Gov. Tony Evers spent the week on a statewide tour touting efforts to plant more trees, conserve more land and use more sustainable sources of energy. 

In 2021, Evers signed a pledge that Wisconsin would plant 75 million trees and conserve 125,000 acres of forestland by the end of 2030. In a Tuesday news release, Evers’ office announced that in 2025 the state planted nearly 12 million trees and conserved more than 7,800 acres of forestland in the state in 2025 — bringing the total to more than 54 million trees planted in five years. 

“Conservation and protecting our natural resources are core to who we are as a people and as a state — it’s in our DNA, and here in Wisconsin, our work to conserve and protect our lands, waters, and air and respond to an ever-changing climate has never been more important,” Evers said in a statement. “From flooding and severe weather events to unseasonable snow droughts and everything in between, it’s clear that climate change is an imminent threat to our state, economy, and our kids’ future. That’s why, since Day One, my administration and I have been working to conserve our natural resources and tackle the climate crisis head-on, but there’s always more we can do.” 

While Evers touts the work his administration has done to protect the state’s environment, the main tool the state has used to conserve public land for the last four decades — the Knowles-Nelson Stewardship Grant program — is set to expire this summer due to Republican opposition to land conservation and the Legislature’s inability to reach a deal to reauthorize the program before adjourning for the year. 

Howard Lerner, president of the Environmental Law and Policy Center, said at an online news conference Tuesday that there are still wins happening for the climate. 

“We are getting things done in the Midwest, even while the Trump administration maintains its assault on core environmental values and rolls back years and years of federal progress,” he said. 

He noted that a variety of groups across the Midwest worked together to protect the funding in the federal Great Lakes Restoration Initiative. He  added, however, that more work will have to be done to protect Great Lakes shoreline communities from the effects of an increasingly fluctuating water level. 

“When all is said and done, the impacts of climate change are leading to much greater fluctuations in Great Lakes water levels, and they’re leading to more intensive storms, high winds, heavy waves that batter the shoreline,” he said. “That puts a heavy impact and burden on our shoreline communities and on the shoreline infrastructure, and that’s infrastructure that we’ve got to protect and find ways of doing that.”

But the Great Lakes are also struggling with water quality, he said, largely in the form of contamination from factory farms that can lead to toxic events such as algae blooms. He said that in the wake of the federal government stepping back from its role protecting wetlands and waterways from runoff, Midwest states need to do more. 

“We need to get policies in the states that reduce the amount of phosphorus, nitrates that flow into the water supply,” he said. “I think you’re going to see that [concentrated animal feeding operations] are going to be a bigger story going forward. Communities don’t want them, and E. coli and local water supplies and more toxic algae blooms in the Great Lakes is something that the public, I just don’t think is willing to tolerate.”

The darkened sky in the early afternoon, the tornado sirens wailing as baseball-sized hail shattered windows and dented car roofs, sounding like a series of explosions as drivers hurried home at 4 p.m. last week — all of it felt like the eerie first scene in an apocalyptic movie. 

This is not a drill, I thought, watching the clouds tumbling and boiling overhead as my car radio and my phone began shrieking in unison and a robotic voice informed me that I should take shelter immediately from a tornado that was moving at 20 miles per hour directly toward my neighborhood. 

We’ve all grown accustomed to the low background hum of climate anxiety. Suddenly it’s as loud and immediate as the crack of a giant hailstone on the windshield. 

The changes to the planet we’ve been warned about for decades are suddenly hitting too close to home to ignore. Over the last year in Wisconsin we’ve endured smoke-filled skies from summer forest fires, massive floods, wild temperature swings and scarier, more serious storms. 

This should be a wakeup call. But instead of accelerating efforts to head off climate catastrophe, our federal government is canceling renewable energy contracts and pushing for more coal plants, more oil drilling, more toxic mining on public lands, undoing protections for clean air and water, and accelerating the destruction of our shared environment in order to extract resources and build more wealth for a handful of people in the short term. 

The price of this heedlessness is so enormous it hurts just to think about it. 

Two days after the hail storm and tornado warnings sent me and my neighbors scrambling for cover, the U.S. Senate passed a bill to allow sulfide mining in the Superior National Forest, on the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness — an inexpressibly beautiful place that is precious to my family, the scene of some of the most formative experiences of our girls’ childhood, and the most visited wilderness area in the U.S. The Forest Service spent years studying how acid mine drainage — the toxic byproduct of sulfide-ore mining — could contaminate the interconnected lakes and streams that make up the Boundary Waters. Once that contamination starts, there is no way to reverse it, which is why an overwhelming majority of Minnesotans weighed in against the mine, and the federal government blocked it. Until that protection was overturned last week.

Minnesota Sen. Tina Smith took a heroic stand on the Senate floor last Wednesday, arguing late into the night, trying to persuade her colleagues not just to hold off on destroying this pristine place, but to forgo using an obscure maneuver that, in a 50-49 vote, redefined land management and knocked down longstanding protections for every piece of national forest in the country. 

My colleague J. Patrick Coolican, editor of the Minnesota Reformer, described Smith pleading to an empty chamber, “I dearly hope the members of this body will think about their legacy in protecting the great places in this country.”

No future president can reinstate the mining ban that protected the Boundary Waters now that Congress used the obscure Congressional Review Act to strike it down. And it’s bigger than that. With their vote to open up mining near the Boundary Waters, “lawmakers have called into question the validity of every management plan issued by the U.S. Forest Service over the past several decades,” Alex Brown of Stateline reports. “That could result in legal chaos for thousands of permits covering logging, grazing, mining and outdoor recreation.” As Smith warned her Republican colleagues who want to protect the public lands they cherish in their home states, their vote means it’s now open season on those lands, too.

I couldn’t bear to talk with my daughters, who have spent every summer they can remember in the Boundary Waters, about the vote last week. 

But this week, Earth Week, it’s time to confront it. All is not lost. Just as they stood up to the masked federal agents who descended on Minneapolis to tear immigrant families apart, Minnesotans are organizing to fight Twin Metals, a wholly owned subsidiary of the Chilean mining company Antofagasta, as it seeks state permits to open up its toxic mine. While mining proponents tout the mine as a job creator (ignoring the economic costs of destroying the nation’s most-visited wilderness), the Senate’s action mostly benefits a foreign mining company, which has a history of flouting environmental regulations and creating toxic spills in other countries, and which will likely sell the copper it extracts from Minnesota to China.

The least we Wisconsinites can do is to help our neighbors as they try to repel this deadly invasion and seizure of a priceless natural resource.

Friends of the Boundary Waters, based in Minnesota, is filing a lawsuit arguing that the congressional maneuver that opened up the mine is illegal. The group and its allies are also urging the Minnesota DNR to cancel Twin Metals’ leases for the mine, and pushing the Minnesota state legislature to ban mining in this sensitive area.

As Wisconsin Sen. Gaylor Nelson, the founder of Earth Day put it in his 1970 speech kicking off the modern environmental movement, protecting the environment is “not just an issue of survival, but an issue of how we survive.” 

“Our goal is not just an environment of clean air and water and scenic beauty,” he said. “….Our goal is an environment of decency, quality and mutual respect for all human beings and all other living creatures. An environment without ugliness, without ghettos, without poverty, without discrimination, without hunger and without war.”

We need to protect that vision of life from the forces of greed and destruction that are engulfing us. We can’t let them write the end of the story.