From what I researched, aloe is in a grave of danger, and you guessed it: yes, it’s because of climate change.
The turn of the seasons only an hour from the place I’d spent my eighteen years was unpredictable and mysterious to me.
It is often towns like my own –the low income, Indigenous, and sidelined areas– that see the brunt of the pollution and the brunt of detrimental climate disasters.
As I drove around my hometown, I noticed many stores closed for repairs and tons of damaged cars resulting from tornadoes that struck this area during the storm.
The day prior I strolled the streets in flip flops and shorts, then – like an emergency tsunami – a mere 24 hours later the streets are white and the Christmas songs have begun to top the charts once more.
My nostrils burned a little more with each inhale as I realized that there must be a wildfire somewhere close by.
I don’t know if I should dress warmly or wear something that won’t make me sweat all day.
The game was no longer trying to play your best so you wouldn’t get subbed out, but to conserve your energy under the hot sun so that you wouldn’t pass out from the heat.
I get frustrated because I know that the weather is not like how it used to be.
Growing up in Karachi, Pakistan, a megacity along the coast of the Arabian Sea, I always had a sense of ways in which nature shapes and molds the everyday texture of human life. […] In recent years, however, these rarer weather events have become alarmingly recurring and exponentially greater in their intensity and the destruction they cause to my city.
In the early month of June, however, England was facing record-high heat.
As Christmas came closer and closer, I waited for the first bit of snow to arrive. I waited and waited, but not one flake of snow fell down from the sky that December.
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Mainly, the sounds of animals have diminished
When I awoke on the morning of September 9, 2020. I was extremely confused. My bedroom was almost completely dark, which was, of course, very unusual…