Photo by Chantal Bilodeau

It’s here, at the edge of the world, that human vulnerability is most apparent, our thin layer of skin a poor protection against the formidable forces shaping the earth. It’s also here, at the edge of the world, that the stories of times long gone can be most easily read in the landscape: Devonian fossils, colliding continents, glacial retreat… But the memory of these violent upheavals is softened by the sound of the waves, a veil of mist, and the light falling just so. When the future is uncertain, awe is a powerful antidote to fear.

A YEARs-LONG CREATIVE EXPLORATION OF THE CLIMATE THROUGH 100-WORD STORIES • WEEK 28

Photo by Chantal Bilodeau

The road hugs the fleuve for miles. The English translation of the word, “river,” doesn’t begin to capture the grandeur of the St. Lawrence, especially as it flows between Côte Nord and the Gaspé Peninsula in the province of Québec. Every bend in the road reveals new sides to its personality, every shift in the sun, a different mood. This incredible beauty is all the more precious because soon, the road will be swallowed, the view gone for all but the most intrepid who manage to find their way to the coast without the help of modern infrastructure.

A YEARs-LONG CREATIVE EXPLORATION OF THE CLIMATE THROUGH 100-WORD STORIES • WEEK 27

Photo from Free Stock Image Library

The weather maps are an angry red, the color itself screaming danger and pain. I’m fascinated by those air currents carrying extreme heat and smoke over the country, currents that, until recently, had remained mostly anonymous to those of us living in the illusion of safety that cities provide. I remember my father learning about them and about the clouds they unceremoniously push around as part of a bush pilot training program. “Cumulonimbus,” he’d say, pointing at a shape in the sky, and I’d learn to recognize the white fluff too. I wonder what he would think of all this.

A YEARs-LONG CREATIVE EXPLORATION OF THE CLIMATE THROUGH 100-WORD STORIES • WEEK 26