I love trees. I love the shade they provide on the hottest days of summer; I love look of their skeletons in winter, covered in a thin layer of snow, or dipped in glittering ice; I love the smell of their leaves unfurling in the spring, and the feeling of their rough bark beneath my hands; I love the way they shape the skyline; I love the contrast of their leaves against the cloudless sky, deep earthy green and endless blue.
I love books, the paper ones. I love the smell of them; I love the way they look on my bookcase, spines all lined up, an ever-shifting pattern of colors and textures; I love holding them, leafing through their pages, finding that perfect passage that has been read so many times that the binding is strained there; I love browsing through the shelves of undisclosed riches in the library and the bookstore; I love the feeling of my arms straining to bear the weight of my newfound treasures.
Today is a day when I experience the conflict of loving these two things.
Today is Earth Day.
Lend a book.