I used to cringe at the thought of winter, cursing the months from September to May while steaming under layers of clothing. But this August, as the scorching summer heat in southern Ontario begins to relent, it’s the sun I once yearned for that now casts a shadow over my spirits.

This summer has been anything but joyful. Our family camping trips, usually filled with laughter, were marred by the harsh realities of climate change. One night, sweltering heat turned sleep into a battle. On another trip, a friend discovered a tick on his child—a growing threat that’s becoming all too familiar. A fire ban robbed us of roasting marshmallows during yet another outing, though thankfully, the wildfires in Kawartha Lakes are finally under control.

Smoke clung to my home in Toronto, pushing me to question if sending my child to outdoor camp was safe. How did my once-beloved season turn into a source of anxiety?

The truth is inescapable: summer, once a haven of joy, has morphed into a health risk. Despite this, I try to count my blessings compared to others facing more severe challenges. Wildfires forced evacuations from Vancouver Island to Nova Scotia, impacting over 12,000 households in Manitoba alone. Yet, I still dipped my toes in the chilly waves of three Great Lakes: Huron, Ontario, and Erie, where the sheer joy of my child was a brief respite.

Unless we act, Canadian summers are set to become increasingly unbearable—hotter, smokier, more perilous. But I take solace in knowing that countless individuals everywhere are relentless in their fight for change. Many aspire for a future where our great-grandchildren can relish carefree summers, even as today’s kids must check for toxic algae before diving into lakes.

This melancholy breeds frustration, and I’ve come to realize it’s time to channel that anger. As I discussed climate concerns with Narwhal reporter Drew Anderson, he passionately shared about the dystopian novel "Juice" by Tim Winton. This tale of a future ravaged by climate change struck a chord with me.

In Winton’s world, survival hinges on avoiding the scorching sun, leading to a harsh underground existence. The protagonist learns that the vibrant world he missed has been decimated by greedy fossil fuel magnates—the villains of this narrative who’ve hidden away while the rest suffer.

The story explores vengeance against those descendants living in luxurious secrecy on a dying planet, a narrative catharsis that resonates deeply. The stark imagery—scarred skin from relentless sunburn and families grasping for survival—brought the frightening reality of climate change into sharp focus.

Recently, I’ve pondered the responsibility that falls on today’s oil and gas executives. They can’t claim ignorance as they profit from human suffering; awareness is all but impossible when 600 deaths in British Columbia alone were attributed to extreme heat in 2021.

As the temperature rises, we must unite in recognition of climate change—it's already here, stealing our enjoyment of the idyllic Canada once cherished. We must adapt quickly and respond fairly, rallying for action.

Polls consistently reveal that Canadians support climate initiatives, and though we may debate the best approaches, there’s a pressing need for dialogue. Atmospheric scientist Katharine Hayhoe emphasizes that talking openly about our fears can break isolation and reveal common ground.

Once we voice our apprehensions, we’ll see shared desires for corporations to clean up their messes, from abandoned oil wells to carbon emissions. Climate change comes with a hefty toll; it's baffling that taxpayers foot the bill for cleanups while businesses prioritize profits over pressing environmental reforms demanded by their customers.

How naive I was to resent the cold months. They play a critical role in nature’s cycle, nurturing seeds that purify our air and sustain ecosystems. By the time I tried to embrace snowy days, they began to vanish. My once-winter sadness now stems from the fear of rising temperatures and their manifestation in my beloved summer.