Living with a Changing Climate Postcards

What climate change actually feels like. Not the data. The actual feeling.

Living with a Changing Climate Postcards
About two-thirds of our fresh water comes from glaciers and ice caps🚰🌍 — and they’re disappearing fast, just like on the iconic Obergabelhorn 🏔️ in the Swiss Alps 🔥⚠️. Drinking rocks is not an option 🪨 (Vincent Bieri, Switzerland)

One image. One or two sentences. That's all.

A photograph, a video, a song — whatever captures a moment when climate change stopped being abstract and became something you actually felt.

Most of us carry these feelings alone. We don't have a language for them yet. That matters — because what we can't say, we can't share. And what we can't share, we can't act on together.

It doesn't have to be well written. It doesn't have to be resolved. It just has to be true.

Your contribution can appear under your full name, your initials and city, your city only, or anonymously.

Send your postcard to me, and I will add it to this page jean@icefrontiers.com

My favorite part of the Wind River Range is disappearing before my eyes. I stare intently at the shifting landscape, trying to imprint the already fading image in my memory. I had not expected the emotional toll of this climb to match the physical toll. (Luke Parsons, Salt Lake City UT)
In this beautiful Nature Conservancy Preserve we saw Texas longhorns grazing in the late afternoon sun. It made me sad to see what we expect to happen to this area, but also it gave me a sense of resolve (Luke Parsons, Salt Lake City UT)
The flood canceled the last day of the state fair. It felt unreal—I’d never seen anything like that. (Wyatt Johnson, Milwaukee, WI)
I have never flown as much as since I started working on a climate-related project. Jean Peccoud (Louisville CO)
In 2020, during the Cameron Peak Fire, I wondered how long it would take before I lose my house to climate change. Jean P. (Fort Collins, CO)

This song tells the story of how climate change brought us to extinction; it feels like today. Denis (Paris, France)