Note: This essay first appeared in my April 2026 Newsletter. If you’d enjoy seeing more content like this, be sure to subscribe and join the conversation!

Many years ago, I got up at 4 a.m., sat on my deck in the dark, and gazed intently at the western horizon. My patience was rewarded when a large, bright-pink contrail cleaved the night sky and raced toward me. I watched in awe as the landing space shuttle passed over my head, on its way to Kennedy Space Center in Florida.

I’ve never been a space exploration junkie, but I do enjoy the photos taken of Earth from out there on the shuttle, space station, or from the vicinity of the moon. For some reason, I knew nothing of the Artemis mission until the morning of launch day, April 1. After a 50-year absence, humans were heading back to the moon. How quaint.

Maybe you recall those anti-conservation bumper stickers that read “EARTH FIRST! We’ll mine the other planets later.” I’m still mystified by this concept of venturing to other planets once we’ve used this one up, or trashed it to the point we can no longer survive on it.

In my book What Lies Beneath Colorado, I tell the story of Lon Remine. He lived a nearly hermetic existence near Telluride. Reportedly he never discarded anything. When his little cabin filled up, he built another and abandoned the trash-filled one. He did this several times.

When we get around to spring cleaning, hopefully some of our discards find new homes via thrift store, Craig’s List, or garage sales. But some of it inevitably winds up in landfills. These are much like Remine’s cabins, but less visible. 

I’m recalling the old phrase, “Wherever you go, there you are.” It’s a reminder that you can’t run away from your problems—they go with you. If we abandon Earth to colonize another celestial body, we’ll just repeat our errors and create the same problems there as we have here.

Recently, a couple I know adopted a two-mile stretch of county road they drive each day (Yay!). The garbage they collect will go from roadside eyesore to the nearest “Remine cabin.” Even our pre-industrial ancestors had trash middens, but they never contained forever plastics or fast-food containers.

Look at that photo above, taken on the recent space mission. Would you rather live on that blue-white-green globe in the distance, or that grim, gray rock in the foreground? Which do you think future humanity would choose: looking at Earth from somewhere out in space, or living on it?

As you go about your spring routines think about what you can do to make this world a cleaner, kinder, pleasant place. A planet no one would ever choose to leave.