The potential distribution of peatlands has been the focus of several recent global mapping efforts (Fluet-Chouinard et al., 2023; Hu et al., 2017; Hugelius et al., 2020; Xu et al., 2018). One of the most widely used datasets, PEATMAP (Xu et al., 2018), has been shown to underestimate the northern peatland extent by roughly 1 million km² (Hugelius et al., 2020). The recently released Global Peatland Map 2.0 (Global Peatlands Initiative and United Nations Environment Programme, 2022) offers improved coverage and consistency at a spatial resolution of 1 km; however, this coarse grid limits its direct integration with satellite datasets of finer spatial resolution.

To overcome these limitations, we integrated the following four complementary global datasets to map peatlands north of 45° N:

PEATMAP, an amalgamated global peatland distribution dataset compiled from national, regional, and global sources (Xu et al., 2018), for which we retained all cells with peatland cover above 0 %, resulting in a potential peatland envelope of ∼5 700 559 km² within the study domain;

Because the OSM and ESA WorldCover datasets map wetlands rather than specifically peatlands specifically, our first step was to retain only those wetland locations that intersect with the Global Peatland Map 2.0. We applied the same intersection to PEATMAP, although it directly represents peatlands, to ensure a consistent and systematic workflow across all datasets. From these intersected layers, we retained only areas represented in at least two of the three datasets (OSM, PEATMAP, and ESA WorldCover). Thus, the final peatland mask included areas supported by at least two global datasets and also located within the Global Peatland Map 2.0. Because peatland locations remain uncertain, we used agreement among global datasets as a conservative criterion: areas were retained only when they were supported by multiple sources. Our resulting peatland mask covered ∼535 017 km² of conservatively mapped peatland area. This approach prioritises higher-confidence peatland areas, while acknowledging that OSM coverage is uneven and often sparse in areas with few active contributors.

We used sensor-independent LAI climate data record at 500 m spatial and 8 d temporal resolution for 2001–2023 (Pu et al., 2024). A climate data record is a consistently processed, uncertainty-quantified time series that is long and stable enough for analyses at climate timescales (Merchant et al., 2017). The record is sensor-independent because, for each 8 d period, it combines high-quality retrievals from MODIS Terra, MODIS Aqua and VIIRS, which reduces biases tied to one sensor's calibration and overpass time. Remaining temporal gaps, e.g. due to clouds, aerosols or snow, are filled with a spatio-temporal tensor completion model (Pu et al., 2024). It also includes data on the fraction of photosynthetically active radiation absorbed by vegetation (FPAR); however, because spatial patterns of greening and browning in FPAR closely matched those observed for LAI (Fig. A1), we focus our results on LAI only. The LAI data were obtained in the MODIS sinusoidal projection, and all other datasets in this study were reprojected accordingly to ensure spatial consistency.

For each LAI pixel, we calculated the proportion of area covered by mapped peatlands, as derived in Sect. 2.1, and retained only those with peatland coverage of 90 % or greater. To minimise confounding effects from rapid vegetation changes following wildfires, we excluded all pixels classified as burned between 2001 and 2023 in the combined Terra and Aqua MCD64A1 dataset version 061. MCD64A1 data were accessed and processed in the Google Earth Engine cloud-based platform. The final number of pixels for our analysis was 1 244 063, which captures more than half of our conservative peat mask area (Fig. 1). Therefore, our analysis should not be interpreted as an exhaustive assessment of all northern peatlands, but as an assessment of peatland-dominated, unburned pixels where the LAI signal is least likely to be confounded by mixed land cover or recent fire disturbance.

First, we separated short-term variability from the regular seasonal cycle and long-term change in LAI, air temperature, and precipitation. For each pixel, we decomposed the LAI, temperature, and precipitation time series into three components: a seasonal component, a trend component and a remainder (rt) component, using the seasonal–trend decomposition by Loess implemented in R's base stl function (Cleveland et al., 1990; R Core Team, 2022). We applied a periodic seasonal window and set the trend window to one year. In the following analyses, we treated the remainder (rt) component as the anomaly, because it represents deviations from the expected seasonal cycle and long-term trend.

We did not exclude snow-covered periods from the analyses. In the LAI records, snow-affected retrievals are removed during quality screening and replaced with gap-filled estimates (Pu et al., 2024). The seasonal–trend decomposition by Loess assigns these recurring winter estimates to the seasonal component, so winter anomalies are close to zero. In this way, we retained the full time series to keep a regular and consistent time base across pixels, which is important for decomposition and trend estimation methods.

We then tested whether LAI anomalies were associated with temperature and precipitation anomalies at the pixel level. Because temperature and precipitation can covary, we used partial correlation to estimate the association between LAI and one climate variable while controlling for the other. Specifically, using the ppcor package v. 1.1 in R (Kim, 2015), we calculated: (i) the partial correlation between LAI and air temperature anomalies, controlling for precipitation anomalies, ρLAI,T|P,i (Eq. 1), and (ii) the partial correlation between LAI and precipitation anomalies, controlling for air temperature anomalies, ρLAI,P|T,i (Eq. 2). 1ρLAI,T|P,i=ρri,tLAI,ri,tT-ρri,tLAI,ri,tPρri,tT,ri,tP1-ρri,tLAI,ri,tP21-ρri,tT,ri,tP2,2ρLAI,P|T,i=ρri,tLAI,ri,tP-ρri,tLAI,ri,tTρri,tP,ri,tT1-ρri,tLAI,ri,tT21-ρri,tP,ri,tT2, where ri,tLAI, ri,tT, and ri,tP are the remainder components for LAI, air temperature, and precipitation, respectively, in a pixel i at time t.

Finally, we assessed whether LAI anomalies were associated with PDO. Because the PDO index was available at a monthly temporal resolution, we first averaged the LAI anomalies from 8 d values to monthly means for each pixel. We then computed the Pearson correlation coefficient between monthly mean LAI anomalies and the monthly PDO index: 3ρLAI,PDO,i=ρr‾i,mLAI,PDOm, where r‾i,mLAI is a monthly mean LAI anomaly for pixel i in month m, PDOm is the PDO index value in the same month, and ρLAI,PDO,i is the resulting Pearson correlation coefficient.

A single long-term trend can mask breakpoints, where the direction of LAI change reverses during the study period. We therefore examined whether each pixel-level LAI anomaly time series followed one of three trend shapes following Higgins et al. (2023): (i) hat-shaped, where LAI trend increased initially then decreased, (ii) cup-shaped, where LAI decreased initially and then increased, and (iii) linear, where no change in trend sign was detected. We restricted our analysis to a single breakpoint to capture the main turning point over 2001–2023. While multiple breakpoints can occur globally, higher northern latitudes showed a higher share of zero and one trend change than lower latitudes (de Jong et al., 2012). Thus, the single-breakpoint model summarises the main change in direction, rather than implying that additional breakpoints cannot occur.

For each LAI anomaly time series rt, we first detected linear and non-linear (cup-shaped and hat-shaped) trends fitting Bayesian polynomial regression with LaplacesDemon package v. 16.1.6 in R (Statisticat LLC, 2021): 4rt=b0+b1xt+b2xt2+ϵt,ϵt∼N(0,σ2) where xt is a time index in fractional years, standardised to zero mean and unit variance, b0 is the intercept, b1 is the linear trend coefficient, b2 is the curvature coefficient, and ϵt is Gaussian noise with variance σ2. This model was used to distinguish approximately linear anomaly time series from those exhibiting curvature. We considered curvature to be supported when 95 % of the credible intervals of b2 did not include zero.

We specified weakly informative priors b0,b1,b2∼N0,103 and placed a N0,10 prior on log⁡σ, and recover the noise scale via σ=exp⁡(log⁡σ), ensuring σ>0. The Adaptive Metropolis–within–Gibbs sampler was run for 600 000 iterations with thinning set to 150. We recorded posterior means, standard deviations, 95 % credible intervals, overall acceptance rate, and deviance information criterion.

For LAI anomaly time series with supported curvatures, we then fitted the bent-cable model (Chiu et al., 2006) to identify the timing and direction of the main change in LAI anomalies, i.e. breakpoints: 5rt=b0+b1xt+b2qxt;τ,γ+ϵt,ϵt∼N0,σ2,6qx;τ,γ=0,x≤τ-γ,(x-(τ-γ))24γ,τ-γ<x<τ+γ,x-τ,x≥τ+γ, where rt is the LAI anomaly at time t, xt is the standardised time index, b0 is the intercept, b1 is the slope before the breakpoint, b2 is the change in slope after the breakpoint, q is the bent-cable basis function, τ is the central location of the breakpoint in scaled time, γ is the half-width of the transition zone around the breakpoint, and ϵt is Gaussian noise with variance σ2. We constrained τ to the central 70 % of the time series, τ∼Uniform(Q0.15,Q0.85), to avoid estimating breakpoints at the very beginning or end of the time series. The half-width parameter γ was assigned a uniform prior between 0 and 2 scaled time units. We ran 30 000 Adaptive Metropolis–within–Gibbs iterations with thinning set to 150. Finally, we converted τ back to the calendar date and used the fitted trend direction to classify non-linear time series as either cup-shaped or hat-shaped.

To estimate long-term greening and browning trends of LAI, we modelled LAI change through time while accounting for both temporal autocorrelation within each pixel and spatial autocorrelation across 1 244 063 pixels. This was done using the remotePARTS package v. 1.0.4 in R (Ives et al., 2021; Morrow and Ives, 2025) that reduces sensitivity to autocorrelation in satellite time series (Ploton et al., 2020).

The analysis proceeded in three steps. First, for each pixel, we fitted a linear trend to the LAI, air temperature, and precipitation time series with first-order autoregressive errors, AR(1), using the function fitAR_map(). This provided pixel-level trend estimates while accounting for temporal autocorrelation within each time series. Second, we used the AR(1) residuals to estimate the range parameter of an exponential spatial covariance model, describing how residual similarity declines with distance among pixels. Third, for computational efficiency, we divided the full dataset of 1 244 063 pixels into 1500-pixel partitions and analysed these partitions in parallel using function the fitGLS_partition(). Within each partition, we fitted generalised least squares models with exponential spatial covariance and a nugget term. The partition-level test statistics were then combined into an overall map-scale inference, while accounting for spatial non-independence. We used this framework to test four hypotheses: (i) whether LAI trends differed from zero across all pixels (net greening or browning), (ii) whether the association between tree cover and LAI varied within tree cover type and density, (iii) whether protected peatlands differ from unprotected peatlands in their LAI trends; (iv) and whether LAI trends varied with climate zones and continents, latitude, longitude, and local air temperature and precipitation.

We selected the final partitioned spatial generalised least squares model by testing each candidate against its main-effects baseline using the remotePARTS pooled likelihood-ratio F-test, retaining the most parsimonious specification that significantly improved the fit. We prioritised interpretable, biophysically consistent interactions and excluded additions that offered negligible gains in residual sum of squares error. The final model is summarised in Table A1, and the intercept-only map-level trend model used to test the overall LAI trend is summarised in Table A2. Further details about the hypothesis testing with the remotePARTS package can be found in the original paper by Morrow and Ives (2025).

To minimise overplotting, we overlaid a grid of 500 km² hexagons on the raster data and, within each hexagon, calculated the mean of numerical values and the majority class for categorical data. These aggregated data were used only for plotting; analysis was conducted using non-aggregated data. These aggregated summaries are what we display on the manuscript's maps, with the total number of analysed raster pixels within each hexagon shown in Fig. 1.

To study the association between LAI anomalies and potential climate drivers, we estimated spatial partial correlations between LAI anomalies and air temperature and precipitation anomalies, and a Pearson correlation between LAI anomalies and the PDO index. Anomalies in LAI showed a weak but predominantly positive partial correlation with air temperature anomalies (Fig. 3a) and a weak, predominantly negative partial correlation with precipitation anomalies (Fig. 3b). The regions with the strongest associations were broadly the same for both climate variables, most prominently in West Siberia and the Hudson Bay Lowlands. The correlation with the PDO index was spatially patchy and changed sign by region, with a broad positive correlation in southern West Siberia and the European part of Russia, and negative correlations in northern Europe and scattered areas in the Canadian Interior Plains (Fig. 3c).

At each pixel, the LAI anomaly trend over 2001–2023 took one of the three shapes: linear, cup-shaped, and hat-shaped, and these shapes revealed clear regional patterns (Fig. 4a). Here, linear refers to pixels with no detected change in trend direction, cup-shaped refers to pixels where LAI anomalies first declined and then increased, and hat-shaped refers to pixels where LAI anomalies first increased and then declined. Linear trends dominated large areas, cup-shaped trends were concentrated in West Siberia, and hat-shaped trends were widespread across Europe, northeastern Asia, and Canada. In West Siberia, a north–south gradient was evident, from cup-shaped in the north, through mainly linear in the centre, to predominantly hat-shaped in the south.

Annual dynamics in mean LAI anomalies also differed by trend shape (Fig. 4b). For the cup-shaped trends, anomalies declined during 2005–2010, and the density of posterior mean breakpoints peaked earlier (2005–2010) than in the hat-shaped class. For the hat-shaped trends, anomalies rose to a maximum around 2010–2015 and then decreased, with a later peak in breakpoint density (2012–2016). In both non-linear classes, peaks in breakpoint density occurred soon after a phase change in the PDO.

Out of the studied northern peatlands (approximately 261 819 km²), more than 77 % (203 269 km²) showed positive LAI trends, and the remainder (approximately 58 550 km²) showed negative trends (Fig. 5a). The strongest positive decadal LAI trends clustered in southern West Siberia, Central Europe, and southern Fennoscandia. The largest pattern of negative LAI trends was located near Hudson Bay Lowlands in North America. Overall, the LAI trends in peatlands ranged from -1.07 to 0.78 m² m⁻² per decade, with 95 % of values ranging from -0.07 to 0.09 m² m⁻² per decade. Across the distribution of mean decadal LAI trends, the three trend shapes contributed in broadly similar proportions (Fig. 5b).

Despite a high proportion of greening trends, we did not find a significant overall increase in LAI at the map scale between 2001 and 2023 (Table A2). The partitioned spatial generalised least squares model further indicated that greater tree cover was associated with less greening (i.e., less positive or more negative) LAI trend, conditional on continent, mapped tree-cover context, and the multi-year mean annual precipitation estimated for 2001–2023. In Asian peatlands where the nearest surrounding trees in 2001 were mapped as evergreen needleleaf, each additional +1 % tree cover was associated with a mean decline of 1.06×10-4 m² m⁻² per decade (Table A1). Relative to Asia, the slope was markedly steeper in North America and marginally weaker in Europe. Relative to the evergreen needleleaf baseline, deciduous needleleaf cover attenuated the negative tree-cover effect, whereas broadleaf and mixed forests tended towards more negative slopes. Higher multi-year mean annual precipitation was associated with a less negative tree-cover slope.

After accounting for the continent, tree canopy type and cover, and precipitation in a generalised least squares model, the remaining factors, such as protection status, climate zones, and geographical coordinates, were found to be insignificant. We did not include Arctic lake drainage in the generalised least squares model because it was present in only 2328 pixels (0.187 % of the dataset). Nevertheless, pixels overlapping drained lakes showed a higher proportion of increasing LAI trends: 94.5 % of overlapping pixels had increasing trends, comprising 1185 pixels with linear increasing trends, 758 with cup-shaped increasing trends, and 256 with hat-shaped increasing trends (Fig. 6). Although linear increasing trends accounted for the largest number of overlapping pixels, the relative share of drained-lake overlap was highest for cup-shaped increasing trends, and the overlapping pixels were predominantly located in Asian peatlands. Given the limited and spatially clustered sample, this pattern should be interpreted as exploratory and not generalised.

We found that vegetation greening was observed across 77 % of the studied peatlands for 2001–2023, with a greening-to-browning ratio of 3.5:1. This is broadly consistent with multi-decadal satellite records that reported widespread greening since at least the 1980s across different regions (Myneni et al., 1997; Piao et al., 2019), although the extent of greening varied with study scale and timeframe. At the global scale, greening was estimated at 27 % for 2000–2017 using MODIS annual maximum FPAR (Cai et al., 2025), 40 % for 1981–2017 with GIMMS and MODIS LAI (Winkler et al., 2021), 46 % for 1985–2011 using GIMMS3g LAI (Forzieri et al., 2017), and up to 50 % for 1982–2014 with GIMMS LAI3g, GLOBMAP LAI, and GLASS LAI (Zhu et al., 2016). Regional studies reported comparable areas of greening, including 39 % in the Arctic and 41 % in the boreal vegetation for 1981–2011 with Normalized Difference Vegetation Index (NDVI) data from GIMMS NDVI3g product (Xu et al., 2013), 24 % in an undisturbed Canadian forest for 1981–2011 with Landsat NDVI (Sulla-Menashe et al., 2018), and only 8.4 % in West Siberia for 2000–2014 using MODIS NDVI data (Miles and Esau, 2016).

Our higher greening percentage most likely reflects methodological differences. We used the PARTS approach and, unlike many previous studies, did not threshold trends by per-pixel p-values; requiring per-pixel significance typically reduces the mapped extent of greening. Additionally, part of this difference in estimated greening may also stem from the vegetation metric itself: many previous studies were based on NDVI, which responds to canopy chlorophyll and saturates relatively early (Camps-Valls et al., 2021). By contrast, the LAI data used in our study is a biophysical measure of leaf area retrieved primarily through a physically based radiative transfer algorithm rather than from spectral greenness alone (Pu et al., 2024). Greening and browning expressed through these metrics are therefore not directly comparable, and this may help explain some of the divergence between our LAI-based results and earlier NDVI-based estimates. Yet our greening-to-browning ratio is consistent with a 3.6:1 greening-to-browning ratio in the Low Arctic observed before (Berner et al., 2020).

An additional note of caution is warranted because our analysis represented peatland-dominated, unburned 500 m pixels rather than the full northern peatland domain. Our mapped and analysed peatland area was smaller than the potential peatland domain indicated by PEATMAP and Global Peatland Map 2.0. This difference reflects our conservative sampling strategy rather than a revised estimate of the extent of northern peatlands. Broad products such as PEATMAP cells with peat cover >0 % and Global Peatland Map 2.0 include mosaic and low-fraction peatland areas, whereas our analysis retained only peatland-dominated 500 m pixels and excluded areas affected by wildfire during 2001–2023. This conservative pixel selection was intended to reduce mixed-pixel effects from adjacent non-peatland land covers, such as open water, non-peatland forests, and agricultural land, and to avoid confounding by abrupt fire disturbance and post-fire recovery. However, it also means that fragmented, small, recently burned, edge-dominated, and mosaic peatlands are likely underrepresented, potentially biasing greening–browning estimates.

Observed greening and browning trends in this study should not be interpreted as direct indicators of change in peatland productivity. In boreal and Arctic ecosystems, disturbances can affect vegetation trends, producing browning after tree loss and greening during post-disturbance recovery (Wang and Friedl, 2019). Although we minimised wildfire effects by excluding burned pixels, we did not account for insect defoliation and associated tree mortality (MacLean, 2016), or for disturbances related to peatland drainage and restoration. Moreover, greening trends can even coincide with declines in terrestrial carbon storage, for example, where forest cover decreases, and understory vegetation becomes more visible to satellite sensors (Loranty et al., 2018; Rautiainen et al., 2007; Rautiainen and Lukeš, 2015). In permafrost peatlands, thaw adds a further pathway of vegetation reorganisation, including shifts in dominant tree species and transitions between forested and wetland states (Carpino et al., 2021; Dearborn et al., 2021). Therefore, the widespread positive LAI trends observed here likely integrate multiple forms of vegetation change, rather than representing a single uniform greening mechanism. Some of these possible mechanisms are discussed in more detail in the following sections.

At broader scales and across many ecosystems, greening was often associated with higher precipitation (Cai et al., 2025; Forzieri et al., 2017; Piao et al., 2019). In contrast, we found a predominantly negative association between LAI and precipitation in northern peatlands (Fig. 3b). This pattern is consistent with Yuan et al. (2019), who reported a positive relationship between LAI and vapour pressure deficit over peatland-dominated areas of West Siberia and the Hudson Bay Lowlands, whereas greenness generally decreased with rising vapour pressure deficit across much of the globe (Yuan et al., 2019). Multiple mechanisms can mediate LAI-precipitation relationships at high latitudes; for example, browning in parts of the Arctic was linked to increased cloud cover (Lara et al., 2018), whereas greening arose from graminoid and shrub expansion (Berner et al., 2020; Kettridge et al., 2015; Myers-Smith et al., 2011).

In northern peatlands, this negative LAI-precipitation association aligns with hydrological controls: reduced precipitation lowers the water table, leading to peatlands drying under a warmer climate (Swindles et al., 2019). Such hydrological shifts favour the expansion of dry-habitat species (Gałka et al., 2023), for example, vascular plant expansion at the expense of Sphagnum where the water table falls below ∼20 cm under persistently warm conditions (Keane et al., 2025). This vegetation change increases vascular leaf area and, consequently, the overall LAI of peatlands. Thus, greening in northern peatlands may reflect the expansion of vascular plants rather than enhanced Sphagnum growth.

It is noteworthy that multi-year mean annual precipitation, rather than air temperature, was retained in the best-fitting model. This aligns with the evidence that multi-decadal greening in high latitudes was primarily associated with rising air temperatures, resulting in growing-season lengthening and the relaxation of cold constraints (Park et al., 2020; Piao et al., 2019). However, recent evidence suggests that, over the past two decades, vegetation responses have become increasingly constrained by moisture balance, making water availability an important control on canopy dynamics (Chen et al., 2025), and may have facilitated the expansion of vascular plants in peatlands (Bu et al., 2011). Probably due to these moisture-driven conditions in our study region, a higher multi-year mean annual precipitation moderated the negative tree-cover slope, making it less negative (and, in sufficiently wet sites, even positive).

Given the centrality of moisture in northern peatlands, interpreting LAI dynamics requires tracking moisture conditions alongside temperature. Recent analyses indicated increased aridity across northern Eurasia (Sardans et al., 2024) and expanding heatwave coverage in the Arctic (Rantanen et al., 2024), both of which could intensify evaporative loss and further increase the expansion of vascular plants. Therefore, future work could link observed LAI trends with modelled peatland moisture, for example, using peatland-specific land-surface models (Bechtold et al., 2019), to improve detection of recent moisture-driven regime shifts in northern peatlands at the circumpolar scale.

For the first time, to our knowledge, we observed that a shift in the PDO phase might contribute to changes in peatland vegetation trends (Fig. 4b), with a high number of breakpoints in the LAI trend occurring soon after a PDO phase change. This aligns with prior works showing that PDO modulates vegetation in other regions via meteorological anomalies (Guo et al., 2023; Pan et al., 2018): growing-season greenness tends to be higher during negative than positive PDO phases (Gonsamo et al., 2016). Moreover, the extremely positive PDO in 2015 resulted in higher greening, where it brought cooler, wetter conditions (central Eurasia) and browning, where it brought warmer, drier conditions (central Europe and western North America) (Bastos et al., 2017).

The PDO-LAI relationships showed clear, region-specific signs (Fig. 3c). Under the negative PDO phase, local meteorological conditions differ by region: it is warmer and wetter in West Siberia but cooler and drier in the Baltic region and along the North American Pacific coast (Guo et al., 2023). Accordingly, in West Siberia, we observed predominantly negative LAI anomalies during the negative PDO phase (2005–2012; Fig. 4a) and a positive correlation between PDO and LAI (higher LAI with positive PDO and lower with negative PDO). In the Baltic region, we observed mostly positive LAI anomalies during negative PDO phases, accompanied by a negative correlation between PDO and LAI (higher LAI during negative PDO phases and lower during positive PDO phases). Along the North American Pacific coast, the cooler, drier negative phase likewise coincided with positive LAI anomalies. Taken together, these spatial patterns likely reflect a PDO-associated moisture anomaly, with regional modulation by other large-scale atmospheric circulation (MacIas-Fauria et al., 2012; Scholten et al., 2022). In this way, precipitation anomalies, through their effects on the water table in peatlands, may determine the favourable conditions for the expansion and growth of vascular plants: wetter phases tend to suppress vascular canopy development, whereas drier phases favour vascular growth (Keane et al., 2025; Kettridge et al., 2015).

Beyond large-scale atmospheric circulation, permafrost thaw can also introduce decadal non-linearity in LAI trends. Frozen ground acts as a hydrological dam; thawing and thermokarst-lake drainage breaches this dam, reconfiguring drainage pathways and partially draining areas, which leads to land cover transition (Carpino et al., 2021). Consistent with this pathway, pixels overlapping mapped drained lakes showed a higher prevalence of increasing and cup-shaped LAI trajectories (Fig. 6), compatible with a vegetation shift in which initial permafrost disturbance is followed by graminoid and shrub colonisation and, locally, tree establishment after ∼2–3 decades (Carpino et al., 2021). Because moderate-resolution LAI data integrates heterogeneous peatland–lake mosaics, part of the apparent LAI increase may reflect a decline in the open-water fraction rather than canopy change alone. Nevertheless, the vegetation shift associated with permafrost thaw and thermokarst-lake drainage remains poorly quantified at circumpolar scales; future work should utilise higher-resolution greenness analyses (e.g., Landsat/Sentinel-2) to study the thaw–drain–revegetate mechanism across regions.

LAI trends became more negative with increasing tree cover; however, the effect was numerically small (-1.06×10-4 m² m⁻² per decade per 1 % increase in cover in the Asia evergreen baseline; Table A1). This finding is consistent with that of Winkler et al. (2021), who reported browning in areas with high LAI (forests) and greening in low-LAI areas, attributing forest browning to climate-change-driven water stress and disturbances, and greening in northern low-LAI ecosystems to lengthening of the growing season. Because that study did not include areas with high peatland density, it is essential to note that peatlands may involve additional mechanisms. For example, the loss of evergreen needleleaf trees (black spruce) can lead to counterintuitive greening trends in peatlands through reduced shading and species shifts (Dearborn and Baltzer, 2021).

In our study, the tree-cover slope was significantly attenuated in deciduous needleleaf contexts. This aligns with Dearborn and Baltzer (2021), who showed that larch mitigates the negative association between tree mortality and greening, and Miles and Esau (2016), who found that larch-dominated needle-leaf forests were greening, unlike evergreen coniferous forests and evergreen-majority mixed forests in Western Siberia. Taken together, these observations may suggest that LAI increases in peatlands near deciduous needleleaf forests could partially reflect colonisation by adjacent deciduous conifers of drier sites (Kirpotin et al., 2009) in the Western Siberian taiga, where an ongoing peatland decline is occurring (Kirpotin et al., 2009).

Within our dataset, North American peatlands exhibited higher baseline tree cover than Eurasian peatlands (Fig. A2), which may partly explain the stronger estimated tree-cover penalty in North America. Relative to Asia, the tree-cover coefficient yielded a total slope of -0.161×10-3 m² m⁻² per decade per 1 % cover in the North American evergreen needleleaf baseline (Table A1). Counterintuitively, the largest positive LAI trends in North America occurred at high tree-cover levels. This can arise when partial conifer mortality and understory release increase vascular leaf area despite high initial canopy cover, as documented in boreal peatlands (Dearborn and Baltzer, 2021). In the Hudson Plains, we observed small trends in LAI, whereas Montesano et al. (2024) reported an increase in tree cover over recent decades, suggesting broader vegetation changes in the surrounding landscape. We also found a higher proportion of browning trends in North American peatlands than in Eurasian ones, in line with earlier reports of widespread browning in North American boreal forests, which may be influenced by drought, wildfire, and insect outbreaks (Winkler et al., 2021; Xu et al., 2013). Taken together, these patterns fit a broader picture of divergent boreal trajectories in Eurasia and North America, with continued warming in North America curbing long-term productivity gains (Muccio et al., 2025).

In our analysis, ∼11 % of the studied pixels fell within protected areas. This accords with the global estimates, where only ∼17 % of peatlands are protected (11 % in the boreal region), substantially less than many other ecosystems (Austin et al., 2025). The protection status of peatlands did not significantly explain LAI trends. Importantly, a null association with LAI should not be construed as evidence that protection is ineffective; benefits may occur in attributes not captured by LAI (e.g., biodiversity), or at magnitudes below detectability, given the limited protected-area coverage. Moreover, legal designation alone may not buffer LAI-related dynamics because many protected areas are small and fragmented, exposed to edge effects and biological invasions, conservation actions can be uneven or ineffective, and climate change has often been overlooked in siting and management (Gatiso et al., 2022; Li et al., 2024; Ren et al., 2021). Taken together, our results may suggest that LAI trends in peatlands were more closely associated with climate exposure than with nominal protection status, underscoring the value of climate-aware management and planning (Cimatti et al., 2025).