With an ever-growing majority of the world's human population living in city spaces, the relationship between cities and nature will be one of the key environmental issues of the 21st Century. This book brings together a diverse set of authors to explore the various aspects of this relationship both theoretically and empirically. Rather than considering cities as wholly separate from nature, a running theme throughout the book is that cities, and city dwellers, should be characterized as intrinsic in the creation of specifically urban-generated ‘socio-natures’.

A CHOICE OUTSTANDING ACADEMIC TITLE On May 18, 1980, people all over the world watched with awe and horror as Mount St. Helens erupted. Fifty-seven people were killed and hundreds of square miles of what had been lush forests and wild rivers were to all appearances destroyed. Ecologists thought they would have to wait years, or even decades, for life to return to the mountain, but when forest scientist Jerry Franklin helicoptered into the blast area a couple of weeks after the eruption, he found small plants bursting through the ash and animals skittering over the ground. Stunned, he realized he and his colleagues had been thinking of the volcano in completely the wrong way. Rather than being a dead zone, the mountain was very much alive. Mount St. Helens has been surprising ecologists ever since, and in After the Blast Eric Wagner takes readers on a fascinating journey through the blast area and beyond. From fireweed to elk, the plants and animals Franklin saw would not just change how ecologists approached the eruption and its landscape, but also prompt them to think in new ways about how life responds in the face of seemingly total devastation.

Storms had always been in their lives. They had learned to not be afraid of them, enjoy them, even participate in them. And just recently they had learned to travel in them. Time travel that is. Not that it was a bad thing, the Aguilar-Banks were tough. Both generations. And it was this toughness that helped them through meeting the Gaitanos and the crew of La Gitana. In Encatada. In The Golden Age of Privacy. And now these blessed cursed storms bridged the pirates' world to Blue Bay?

Inseparable from its communities, Northwest Coast art functions aesthetically and performatively beyond the scope of non-Indigenous scholarship, from demonstrating kinship connections to manifesting spiritual power. Contributors to this volume foreground Indigenous understandings in recognition of this rich context and its historical erasure within the discipline of art history. By centering voices that uphold Indigenous priorities, integrating the expertise of Indigenous knowledge holders about their artistic heritage, and questioning current institutional practices, these new essays "unsettle" Northwest Coast art studies. Key themes include discussions of cultural heritage protections and Native sovereignty; re-centering women and their critical role in transmitting cultural knowledge; reflecting on decolonization work in museums; and examining how artworks function as living documents. The volume exemplifies respectful and relational engagement with Indigenous art and advocates for more accountable scholarship and practices.

I Have A Poem The Size Of The Moon is a book of poems about Nebraska. Not cornfields, not cows: Cities, highways, long drives and the political conversations simmering. Between Meteors and Fireflies In a drought year, corn stubble bends into Headlines: "Farmers pray for rain." Tumbleweeds take time to harmonize and choreograph, somewhere between meteors and fireflies. The grocery sells blueberries all year round, but the charge card feels heavy as a refrigerator once you slip it from the wallet. You don't end up buying the magazines, just browse. It's a tow truck, doorbell button, garbage disposal broke summer: no real difference between a silo and a paper sack, it seems. And in the hallway, light glows from under the bathroom door.