We are well into summer. Our Rosebay rhododendrons (Rhododendron maximum) are a little past bloom now as the woodland garden here on We are well into summer. Our Rosebay rhododendrons (Rhododendron maximum) are a little past bloom now as the woodland garden here on Montclair’s First Mountain has settled into the deep green of the summer. Yesterday, I noticed our Goldenseal (Hydrastis canadensis) is fruiting. The fireflies light up our evenings and although their numbers are greater on our property since we started planting native, I worry about their future. Firefly populations are dropping both in our state and nationwide. Some species are in danger. After the unseasonably warm heat wave last week, many of the spring plants that would normally stick around a little longer have started calling it a day. Unseasonably warm is now the norm. Climate change is uneven, and so far, New Jersey has been one of the states most impacted by climate change, doubling the average temperature rise of the 48 continental states. Ours is an environment under stress.
Gings on in Washington don’t help matters. The 2026 Federal Budget promises major cuts to science. To take but one example, the United States Geological Survey Bee Lab, run by Sam Droege, who gave a fabulous talk about native bees at our 2023 annual meeting, is slated to close to focus USGS attention on identifying new sources of energy and minerals to extract. Even as, at the last minute, Utah Senator Mike Lee responded to pressure from constituents who love to hunt and fish in the wild and pulled his amendment to sell between 2.2 and 3.3 million acres of federally owned land to the highest bidder, there are hundreds of cuts like Sam’s bee lab. It’s a fraught time.
But there is good news, too. On June 3, Governor Phil Murphy announced that New Jersey has become the first state in the continental United States (and only the second after Alaska) to meet the High Ambition Coalition for Nature and People’s of protecting 30% of land and water use by 2030. Much of that protection has come through the Green Acres Program, established in 1961, which funds land acquisition, including important conservation sites like the 10,000-acre Waywanda State Park in Sussex and Passaic County and the 1,400-acre Holly Farm, a key part of the Menantico Ponds Wildlife Management Area in Cumberland County. Small sites benefit too, such as 71 acres recently preserved in Frenchtown, Hunterdon County.
Still, Green Acres funds are sometimes used for doing things that don’t help our environment, such as building sports fields with artificial turf, clearing mature woods to build a restaurant, or building pickleball and volleyball courts together with parking. These are all programs meant to get people outdoors and thereby improve their lives, but there is no reason they can’t be done better. As such proposals are generated locally, we need to reach out in our own communities and get people to think about nature just a little bit more. And that often means overcoming divisions.
When I became a founding co-chair of the Advocacy Committee at NPSNJ four years ago, I sought bipartisan solutions. The environment should matter to everyone, regardless of political affiliation or background. I grew up in the rural northeast, where communities paused for deer hunting season. As a parent, I spent time around campfires in upstate New York with fellow scout parents. In doing so, I learned that appreciating and protecting nature can cross all class and political divides. In a time of increasing polarization, such common ground becomes especially important. Not everyone understands what native plants are: most people can’t tell the difference between an oak and a maple, let alone a native Sugar maple (Acer saccharum) and a Norway maple (Acer platanoides) and there was a time when each of us didn’t either, whether it was age 3 or age 73. Plant blindness crosses class and political divides as well. But we can learn.
Everyone has to start somewhere. Even as we reach out to our elected representatives in local, state and federal governments, we also need to engage with friends and neighbors one-on-one. While one neighbor still douses his yard with remarkable amounts of herbicides and pesticides, another took some of my excess Pickerelweed (Pontederia cordata) for her water feature and enjoys the ferns spreading naturally from my property to hers. Every interaction matters, and every new advocate counts. The Society now counts over 1,600 members. Imagine if all of us could convince three people of the merits of native plants.
My point is this: I urge all of you to think of those three (or more) people in your life who might be receptive to learning about native plants. Perhaps it’s the neighbor who admired your garden, a family member looking to redesign their yard, or a colleague interested in sustainability. Share with them your plants and your knowledge—why native species matter, how they support local wildlife, and how simple changes can make profound differences.
I’d like to close with gratitude for this community. In challenging times, it’s heartening to see so many people committed to protecting our local ecosystems. Whether you’ve been with us for decades or just joined this year, your dedication makes a difference. The fireflies in my garden—and I hope yours too—are a testament to that.
Happy Fourth! And see you in the garden,
Kazys
