Timothy’s Story

When I was the same age as Daniel, I remember blizzards that would cancel school for a week, snow so high that my dad and I would make igloos out of them, snow so heavy I could sink waist deep. Core memories that don’t just pale in comparison, they hurt.

Nudrat’s Story

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.

Evan’s Story

Evan’s Story

The violent winds lifted me up into the air. It would’ve succeeded if it wasn’t for my dad anchoring me down. “Let go of the umbrella”, he screamed. I watched as my umbrella flew away.

Vivina’s Story

I love when the snow actually sticks to the ground and piles up to six inches–I would make bunny rabbits with footprints, or draw things in the snow that was piled on ledges. Sadly, I don’t remember doing any of those things in the last two or three years–not because I don’t have the time to do so, but because there was never that much snow to begin with.

Ghent’s Story

The young campers between ages six and eight complained about not feeling well and nearly fainted as some had in the previous summers due to these heat waves.