The earth has flourished while we’ve stayed home. How can we preserve that progress?

The world has been so lost in the cloud of the coronavirus that the 50th anniversary of Earth Day didn’t get its due. No Procession of the Species. No Arts Walk. No national rallies.

Nonetheless, it is definitely time to return to Earth: It’s spring, and the world is blooming all around us. We awake to birdsong, and when we step outside, we are surrounded by new leaves and the rain of falling cherry blossoms. The air is sweet with the mingled scents of trees and flowers, and heavy with pollen.

And in this worrisome time, it’s the earth we turn to for a sense of security. More of us are planting vegetable gardens. Grocery store seed racks, usually comfortably overstocked, are already nearly empty of corn, beans, peas and other favorites.

Finding comfort in the natural world is as old as the human species, but this year the comfort may be more intensely felt because we are so acutely in need of it.

There is a lot to be gained from this. Since kids are out of school, and county trails are open, more families are going for walks, and children are seeing trilliums in the woods, ducks in ponds, and swallows swooping and diving through the air for insects. Their parents are, we hope, renewing their own affection for the natural world along the way.

We are also reading news about how staying home is benefiting our planet. We are driving and flying so much less that around the world, the air is cleaner, and fewer people are breathing in polluted air that, in ordinary times, kills 3 million people each year. It’s even given northern India a rare view of the Himaylayas.

We are using so much less energy that oil prices have dropped and storage tanks are full, and some oil might actually have to be left in the ground.

So it’s time to wonder whether we want to go back to what we thought of as normal. It’s time to consider how we can preserve and expand on the unexpected environmental gains we’ve accidentally produced.

To do that, we have to start where we are: in the middle of a crisis made immeasurably worse by the failure to listen to scientists, to plan ahead, and to invest in the public health infrastructure that might have prevented much of the suffering and death.

These are the same failings that endanger the planet that beguiles us each spring. Scientists tell us that we are facing a climate change emergency. They tell us that our “normal” way of life is on track to flood low-lying coastal areas around the world; cause more severe floods, storms, droughts and wildfires; disrupt our food system; and cause the extinction of up to half the species on the planet. And the scale of human suffering and death will be vastly greater than what we are witnessing now.

Yet we trundle on, either altogether oblivious or content with half-measures and modest efforts to change.

So again, let’s think about how to preserve and expand the accidental gains we’re making to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. How many people could continue to work at home when the stay-at-home order is lifted? How much more can we grow at home, make at home, and stay at home? How much further can we walk or bike from home?

How can we reform our food system to switch from factory farms to local, small-scale, sustainable production that supports local farm families and eliminates long-haul shipping? How much less energy-consumptive meat could we eat?

And most important, how much harder can we push for climate-friendly public policies and for candidates who will really change our trajectory? How can citizens of all ages, faiths, colors and walks of life convince our leaders that we want them to heed the scientists and prevent a looming global tragedy?

The answer to all these questions begins with a prerequisite: We take care of what we love. Unless we intimately observe, experience, and love the natural world that sustains all life, we will fail to prevent catastrophic climate change.

So in this strangest of springs, please go outside. Breathe in clean air. Listen to every birdsong, and greet every new leaf and flower. Walk on a path that is new to you. Think about what it was like along that path 100 years ago, and what it will be like a hundred years from now.

Then go home, and stay there a while longer.