Climate
Freezing in Florida
The day before Halloween 2020, I wrote a blog for my website about my walking routine and posted pictures of me decked out in my Capris, neon tee shirt, along with my supply bag of ice water and sweat rag, among other necessary items for walking in the Southern Florida oppressive heat and unbearable humidity. Yes, the heat and humidity last well into October in my area of Florida. That blog has since been published as a story on Vocal.- The Walking Queen.
By Joan Gershman4 years ago in Earth
What’s the Missing Link in Emotional Intelligence to Address Nature’s Climate Change?
As a teacher, student of nature, and new eco-fiction writer let me try and make a case that emotional intelligence may be a missing link to help bring attention to nature’s climate change.
By Annemarie Berukoff4 years ago in Earth
WINTER STORM PREP; ARE YOU READY?
Regardless of where they live, nearly everyone is likely to face some severe winter weather at some point in their lives. Winter storms can range from moderate snow over a few hours to a blinding blizzard with powerful winds and drifting snow or sleet and ice. Travel could be extremely hazardous or nearly impossible. Power outages could last for days or even a week. Winter storms can have the ability to knock out heat, power, and communications to your home, sometimes for several days. Heavy snowfall, ice, and extreme cold can paralyze an entire region. You could be trapped for many days without access to food stores or water.
By Marley Bakos4 years ago in Earth
The Volcanic Eruption in Tonga Might Have Lasting Effects on the Climate
On Saturday, January 15th, 2022 (5pm local time), an undersea volcano near Tonga erupted in an intensity that rivaled the largest volcanic explosions of the 21st century (1). As of writing this (2pm PT), countries that border the Pacific have already begun to feel the effects of the massive blast. The United States has issued Tsunami advisories up the entire U.S. Western Coast and Tsunami threats have been issued from New Zealand and all the way to up to Japan (2).
By Olivia L. Dobbs4 years ago in Earth
Mommy, Daddy, Why Did You Kill Us All When You Could Have Acted Sooner?
The year is 2090, and you've just come back to your room at the retirement home after a long day of therapy. The doctors say your hip surgery was a success, and you'll soon be able to go back to your home and get around just fine.
By Jason Ray Morton 4 years ago in Earth
News Flash - We Are Not Doomed!
We’ve all seen enough images of forest fires, floods, droughts, and turtles dying of plastic pollution and at this point, these images have started to lose their shock value. As an ex-climate activist myself, I can tell that climate activism (not slacktivism) is not ill-intentioned, in fact, those peers are some of the most passionate folks I’ve ever worked with. But that short stint as an activist made me realize that there is something wrong with the way we sell climate change.
By Rishi Rathi4 years ago in Earth
When in Drought
Tropical Forest, Queensland, Australia The wind rustles through our needles, barely holding onto our fragile limbs. Some fall, down, down to the earth. Light and drying into yellow, a breeze lifts them from our limbs and together they dance. Layers of dehydrated leaves and needles blanket our floor, too thick, too dry, too much. Dust billows, like sediment rising in the ocean, up through the brush and settles in the cracks of our bark. We haven't been this parched in centuries. Vines, twisting their lengths along the full height of our trunks, loosen their grips and dust settles in their drying bark, filtering through the cracks. Void of leaves, too barren for the season, they creak and settle around us. It already feels like summer, even though spring is just beginning. Swallows flit between our branches, wingtips just a breath away. Their song carries on the breeze and echoes between our trunks. We would smile if we could. An echidna, stout nose prodding gently at half-decomposed detritus and termite mounds, shuffles between us, feet tripping slightly on our surface roots. It can't even find insects to eat. Our brittle needles snap and give away under its gentle weight. The sun warms our canopy, breaking through to our floor between our shy crowns, and speckles the too-dry shrub with shifting, dappled, winking flecks of gold. We drink in its rays while wishing instead for rain, waiting for today's solstice night to fall.
By Tessa Markham4 years ago in Earth
Not Enough
Polar Bear Den, Ellesmere Island, Canada I blink furiously, eyes shimmering in the sunlight as I squint through its new brightness for the first time. The snow is soft beneath my paws and its countless flakes cling to the fur between my toepads. I turn my head, ears flicking, and look all around. It’s the solstice, the first day of spring, and the sky is so big. I thump into a sitting position, still looking at the cloud-dotted blue, and feel the breeze through my fur. Our mother said the days will only get longer from now until winter, but I can’t wait to see the stars. My brother starts to run off, kicking snow into my nose as he goes past, his head wagging excitedly from side-to-side. I respond in kind, shaking my head, and hop up to go after him. I can still barely see past the glare of sunlight on the snow. From behind, a low cuff, like an almost-growl. My brother and I skid to a stop, paws digging into the snowpack, and turn to our mother. She growls again and we return.
By Tessa Markham4 years ago in Earth
