Individual gardens, grown in backyards, balconies, and containers; community gardens developed in public spaces; and Indigenous demonstration gardens developed collaboratively, all play a role in helping local small-scale climate adaptation. Gardeners can show how to practice agency in managing climate change, while Indigenous demonstration gardens can offer public education about, and promote traditional uses of, Indigenous plants.

Gardeners face many challenges of climate change effects such as fluctuating temperatures, erratic weather extremes, water shortages, droughts, and flooding from rainstorms. These challenges are on top of common hindrances of gardeners, including, weeds, insects and animal pests, and necessary watering restrictions imposed by governments. When gardeners recognize that they have agency as “both stewards and guardians of our environment,” then there are actions that they can take locally to adapt their gardening practices to climate change. These practices are noted by the National Wildlife Federation, and include:

  1. Using human-powered yard tools vs gasoline-powered tools to reduce energy consumption and minimize pollution.
  2. Growing diverse native species of plants to manage the impact of so-called “invasive species.”
  3. Learning about the connection among birds, bees, and other pollinators in order to appreciate how plants grow, and how gardens depend on symbiotic relationships with diverse insects.
  4. Reducing water consumption and protecting topsoil by using rain barrels and by practicing mulching.
  5. Composting both yard waste and kitchen waste. While this can be done with the support of municipal services, it is also important to consider how compost can be a source of soil nutrients and as work as a natural fertilizer for diverse community gardens.

Indigenous demonstration gardens, even in high-traffic urban areas, can highlight how to manage plants in the midst of climate change, while also promote traditional uses of Indigenous plants. For example, the Bickford Teaching Garden is a biodiverse garden with five plots: pollinator plants, Indigenous sacred medicinal plants, herbs, sun-friendly plants, and a plot for seed saving. The garden, one of several Indigenous gardens in downtown Tkaronto (Toronto, Ontario), was designed and installed by Miinikaan and is maintained by volunteers. The garden beds were developed using the sheet mulching method which regenerates soil without cutting into the ground.

Another Indigenous demonstration garden is the Na’tsa’maht Indigenous Plant Garden – a “living classroom” located on the traditional territories of the Lkwungen and Wsáneć peoples, on the lands of the Landsdowne Campus at Camosun College in Victoria, BC. In addition to supplying space for Indigenous-led education, it also offers opportunities for the study and practice of sustainability at the college. Na’tsa’maht is a Salish word that means “unity or working together as one” or “being of one mind, one spirit.”

All these examples of gardens offer local, human-scale examples of climate adaptation. Whether gardening in a community garden, backyard, or apartment balcony, or volunteering in an Indigenous demonstration garden, gardening can offer opportunities to take individual and collective action in the context of climate change.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: Steffi Pereira, Unsplash)

Invasive species are organisms that are not native to a particular ecosystem, and are typically viewed as harmful to their environment. According to scientists, preventing the spread of invasive species also protects the environment from the effects of climate change.  However, current Indigenous research encourages reassessing how invasive plant and insect species are understood. Indigenous perspectives seek to consider why invasive species are present in the first place, so that people can benefit from the these species, rather than focusing solely on their removal.

An Anishinaabe perspective proposes that every plant is kin. Consequently, plant invaders are viewed in terms of the kind of relationship they might create with humans. One might consider what led the so-called invasive plant to appear as a foreigner to the territory in the first place, rather than automatically sanctioning its removal. This kinship approach, notes Dr. Nicholas Reo (Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians), in an interview with the CBC Radio’s Unreserved, is a “more participatory, relational approach” to science. For example, Dr. Reo’s collaborative research has opened up the possibility for invasive cattail to be considered as an alternative fuel source, or as food, rather than as a nuisance and an undesirable species to wetland ecosystems around the Great Lakes.

Indigenous perspectives to understanding invasive species, such as through a kinship approach, can be viewed in concert with, or as an alternative to, the federal and provincial legislation and regulatory policies on invasive species in Canada.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: Vyacheslav Makodin, Unsplash)

Food security means that a community has stable and sufficient access to nutritious food. Climate change further threatens Indigenous communities from maintaining secure access to country foods. Indigenous food sovereignty is a means by which food security for Indigenous communities is achievable. Having measurable indicators for food sovereignty in Indigenous communities can go a long way in securing the long-term health of Indigenous peoples.

While food security focuses on protecting and distributing food and produce from existing food systems, food sovereignty emphasises having a democratic approach that engages all community members and food producers in building and sustaining local food systems. Food Secure Canada highlights seven pillars for food sovereignty:

  1. Focusing on food for people
  2. Building knowledge and skills
  3. Working with nature
  4. Valuing food providers
  5. Supporting local food systems
  6. Putting control into local initiatives
  7. Food as sacred/gift of life

Indigenous food sovereignty is action-oriented and connected to a broader social movement that considers the needs of future generations. However, determining how to gauge where progress is being made in securing the overall health of Indigenous communities through Indigenous food sovereignty is difficult to achieve. Every effort should also consider the capacity of Indigenous communities to be engaged for long-term engagement.

Indigenous food sovereignty indicators can be used to build both community food systems and improve overall community health. Through a literature review, content analysis, and Indigenous community engagement, a collective of Indigenous and non-Indigenous university researchers has identified seven Indigenous food sovereignty indicators:

  1. Access to resources
  2. Production
  3. Trade
  4. Food consumption
  5. Policy
  6. Community involvement
  7. Culture

An additional twenty-five sub-indicators are identified  and are intended to be transferable to diverse Indigenous communities across differences of “cultural values, history, traditions, geography governance, beliefs, resources, capacity, and goals.”

One of the limitations of this research is that current public policy does not typically connect food sovereignty with public health priorities and so the implementation of these Indigenous food sovereignty indicators will require leadership to meet community expectations that link food security with sustainable health and wellness in Indigenous communities. Indigenous food sovereignty indicators can also be used to frame health promotion initiatives at the local community level by supporting Indigenous approaches to farming, harvesting, cooking, and language revitalization in conjunction with enhancing scientific work.

Indigenous food sovereignty projects worth considering in terms of their efforts to build food security and to heal from centuries of colonization include: Ginawaydaganuc Food Sovereignty Project; a project of the Pauquachin and T’Sou-ke First Nations of South Vancouver Island called Feasting for Change; and projects led by 28 different organizational efforts worldwide. Many of the projects combine seed saving, financing, guidance and mentoring by Elders, food preparation, and feeding programs.

Indigenous-led food sovereignty projects, combined with an application of indicators to gauge for impact, could offer a powerful means to manage and overcome Indigenous food insecurity, while promoting long-term Indigenous community health in the context of climate change.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: Johnny McClung, Unsplash)

Climate change threatens the survival and migration practices of monarch butterflies. Drastic shifts in weather patterns and the fragmentation and degradation of habitat adversely affect environmental cues facilitating migration and hibernation of monarch butterflies. Restoring the monarch butterflies’ habitats, destroyed by climate change and deforestation practices, would increase the butterflies’ chances of survival.

Monarch butterflies are among the endangered species assessed by the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada (COSEWIC). Once numbered at over one billion in the 1990s, monarch butterflies declined to approximately two hundred million individuals in 2015-2016.

Milkweed is the food supply for monarch butterflies. Monarch butterflies need milkweed to grow and develop. Caterpillars only feed on milkweed. As milkweed adapts to climate change, they can also threaten to poison the butterflies. When milkweed plants sense warming temperatures, they increase their production of cardenolide, a poison, as a defensive mechanism against predators.

Monarch butterflies can freeze to death in temperatures below freezing. As the weather gets colder in parts of Canada and the United States, monarch butterflies fly thousands of miles south to Mexico, starting in October, to winter among the Oyamel Fir Tree forests. Typically, monarch butterflies make their return trip North in early April; however, habitat loss threatens monarch survival.

Practices of rewilding rural and city landscapes, including growing more milkweed, support monarch butterflies’ survival, and the nectar-rich milkweed give the butterflies added energy before their long flight South each year.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: M. Dean, Unsplash)

According to “PAS Report 600: Planning for Urban Heat Resilience,” released in April 2022 by the American Planning Association (APA), urban regions need to develop a framework to build resilience against rising temperatures due to climate change. Although the APA report focuses heavily on the United States, the findings can be appreciated within the context of North America. With more than half of all Indigenous people in Canada living in towns and cities with a population of 30,000 and more, the threat of increasing heat is not simply an urban issue, it is an Indigenous issue.

The APA report defines urban heat resilience as the ability of urban systems “to maintain or rapidly return to desired functions and improve quality life in the face of chronic and acute health risks and to quickly transform systems that limit current or future capacity to adapt to extreme heat.” The report lays out an urban heat resilience framework, based on scientific information, with “seven practical considerations” to facilitate planning for, monitoring, and measuring extreme heat events. The framework also calls for developing a “fact base of information on heat risks” and a robust collection of heat mitigation and heat management strategies.

Key components to urban heat resilience planning are heat mitigation strategies and heat management strategies. In the urban context, heat mitigation strategies focus on buildings and infrastructure and reducing the heat that they produce. Heat mitigation strategies often fall under the category of “urban greening” such as tree planting, urban forestry, and green storm water structures (e.g., bioswales, permeable pavements, etc). Urban heat management strategies enable cities to both prepare for and respond to immediate, recurrent, and long-term heat risks also associated with the built environment (e.g., renewable and reliable energy systems, indoor cooling). Heat management and heat mitigation strategies require the assistance of diverse experts, including planners, engineers, architects, urban designers, and public health professionals, among others.

Building urban heat resilience, and protecting the health of Indigenous peoples due to adverse climate effects require planning ahead, and taking leaps forward to “proactively” coordinate all parties to manage increasing heat. The Government of Canada has developed a list of tools and resources to help public health professionals develop approaches to reduce, the effect of urban heat islands. The First Nations Health Authority has put into place “heat response supports” to mitigate the adverse health effects of extreme heat on BC First Nations and to promote climate health. The Canadian Institute of Planners’ Policy on Climate Change Planning has recommended that planners “[b]e inclusive and respectful of Indigenous peoples, striving to promote understanding, validation, and respect of Indigenous knowledge and cultural practices to ensure decisions and interventions are culturally relevant and appropriate.”

The disastrous impacts of the record-breaking extreme heat of the summer of 2021, in the Western United States and Canada, shed light on the need for collective efforts to ensure that heat risks are managed more effectively. Planning for urban heat resilience requires a collective and culturally informed approach.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: Berkay Gumustekin, Unsplash)

Climate maladaptation is defined as the unintended negative results of adaptation policies and decisions. Maladaptation cuts across social and geographic boundaries as well as time.

In 2013, researchers Jon Barnett and Saffron J. O’Neill developed a framework for maladaptation, and categorized the phenomenon into five types:

  • Increasing emissions of greenhouse gases.
  • Disproportionately burdening the most vulnerable.
  • High opportunity costs.
  • Reduce incentives to adapt.
  • Path dependency.

Actions that burden the most vulnerable carry the highest climate risk. Furthermore, institutions and organizations that are path-dependent to address climate change slow down climate adaptation and associated decision making processes.

According to the 2022 IPCC WGII Sixth Assessment Report: “adaptation planning and implementation that do not consider adverse outcomes for different groups can lead to maladaptation, increasing exposures to risks, marginalising people from certain socio-economic or livelihood groups, and exacerbating inequity.”

Preventative measures against maladaptation must be undertaken. Exchanging mutual learning and knowledge gained from assessments about what works and what does not in environmental monitoring and decision-making may help to prevent maladaptation. Furthermore, “blueprint approaches” to climate adaptation that lack an understanding of the details regarding the vulnerability and social inequities of a context, and that minimize engagement, should be avoided.

Poor climate leadership is a primary culprit of maladaptation, and governance practices in climate adaptation need more scrutiny. Climate equity and justice must be prioritized while “inclusive planning initiatives informed by cultural values, Indigenous knowledge, and scientific knowledge” can further prevent climate maladaptation.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: Jezael Melgoza, Unsplash)

Climate change reflects a “shifting rhythm of nature.” Government-sponsored high-resolution maps, scientific studies about the impacts of global warming, and witness accounts by Indigenous elders offer evidence of changing seasons due to climate change.

A key sign of how seasons are shifting is the increase in global temperatures. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), Earth’s “combined land and ocean temperature has increased” at an average rate of 0.18 degrees Celsius per decade since 1981. The 2018 IPCC Special Report on Global Warming produced the target of 1.5 degrees Celsius, to limit global warming. In 2021, global warming was a key topic for discussion at the COP26 conference where global efforts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions were highlighted.

More evidence of changing seasons is noted by shifts in plant hardiness zones. A plant hardiness zone is a specified geographic area with a certain range of annual minimum temperatures which are vital for plants to survive. Maps of plant hardiness zones in Canada and the United States are showing that the zones are creeping northward over time. This shift can have an impact on the length of the growing season, rapid adjustments to agricultural practices and to farmers’ crops, and access to food year-round. In turn, urban agriculture projects and residential gardens are also affected.

Even a slight increase in temperature has an impact on the start of each season. For example, spring thaw happens earlier and pushes the onset of the first frost. Ultimately “winters are shorter, spring is earlier, summers are longer, and fall arrives earlier.” The phenomenon of “false spring” is also witnessed in North America, more frequently in recent years than in previous decades. False spring happens when temperatures rise suddenly and cause plants and trees to bud and bloom too early, making them vulnerable to the still-present risk of frost. A report by the US-based National Atmospheric and Space Administration (NASA), from almost 20 years ago, had signaled that “regional thawing trends” in North America were “advancing almost one day a year since 1988,” and “[had] the potential to alter the cycle of atmospheric carbon dioxide intake and release by vegetation and soils across the region, potentially resulting in changes in Earth’s climate” and reflects current phenomena.

Changing seasons in Northern communities reveal how earlier spring thaws trigger permafrost thaw and sea ice retreat and ultimately, coastal erosion. When permafrost thaws, the ground becomes permeable and the ensuing degradation has destructive impacts on infrastructure, such as on roads and buildings, and on sustainable development efforts too. Furthermore, while engineering solutions to these problems exist, they are also costly.

Coproducing knowledge with Indigenous communities can offer crucial insights, not always shown in high-resolution maps of coastal erosion, of permafrost degradation, and of the progression of spring thaws over time. Documenting the experiences of Indigenous elders who witness climate change will also help to paint a clearer picture of the impact of changing seasons on plants and wildlife.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image credit – Freestocks, Unsplash)

According to the 2022 UNEP’s Frontiers Report, the regime of wildfires affecting Earth’s ecosystems is changing.  The changes are due to increases in greenhouse gas emissions (GHG) in the atmosphere, changes in land use, and other human activities.

Wildfires are uncontrolled fires that burn in vegetation. While some fires are naturally occurring, other fires are started by humans as a land management practice, to clear land for human settlements, deforestation, resource extraction, and agricultural use, all of which interfere with the natural occurrence of fires. Fire regimes involve three factors: the severity and intensity of a fire, the frequency of a fire, and the time of year or season of the fire.

Extreme weather events are also contributing to shifts in fire regimes, and global warming influences longer fire seasons. For example, monitoring conducted by Natural Resources Canada indicates that with drier conditions expected in the years ahead, there will be a “1.5-fold increase in the number of large fires by the end of the 21st century.”

While providing valuable information on the ecology of wildfires, the 2022 UNEP Frontier’s Report highlights the importance of developing a “system and whole-of-landscape approach” to fire and land management that draws from Indigenous cultural and ecological knowledge to manage wildfires. Indigenous Fire Stewardship (IFS) and Indigenous fire management practices in the fire-prone savannahs of North Australia, Brazil, and Botswana are a few approaches that have been proven to be effective in managing the changing regime of wildfires.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Photo Credit: Joanne Francis, Unsplash)

Experiencing four distinct seasons is a powerful way to tell time. Each season brings with it an element of life and death and teaches us to embrace change.  Many of us think of the seasons in terms of what we wear or how the weather affects our commute; however, how many of us stop to think about how the seasons affect our diet and medicines?

Increasingly, we buy our medicines and our food from grocery stores. When we walk into a store and find all that we need, it becomes difficult to notice the true impact of the seasons on what we eat and how we feel. As science progresses, technology continues to fuel the advancement of hybrid seeds resistant to Mother Nature’s woes. Technology supports farming machinery to achieve greater yields of large-scale crops, ensuring the things we enjoy consuming are constantly available on store shelves.  The convenience of shopping disconnects us from the spirit of our food, and ultimately distracts us from the stories that Mother Nature is telling us, especially through her gifts of the changing seasons.

When does winter truly end? How long is spring, really? What if we let go of the idea that the answers to these questions come from a calendar, and instead, turn our collective gaze toward nature? Consider that winter ends when the Red Squirrel awakens and begins to nibble Maple Tree’s stems, signalling the maple sap to begin to flow. Spring arrives when coltsfoot pops out its mysterious yellow flower before its signature leaves arrive. Trilliums and trout lilies tell us how long we have until spring disappears. And as soon as it gets too warm, we learn that summer has arrived. Raspberries emerge telling us summer is ending and it is time to load up on fat stores with Wintergreen signalling our last chance at berries before the deep snow arrives. All these plants are also gifts of Mother Nature and were once received as wild foods and wild medicines, by human beings.

When one remembers what to eat, in what season, and by what is available in nature, then one also begins to see the changes in what Mother Nature can offer as weather patterns shift. To truly understand the weather and the climate, one must return to nature. When one grows a garden and watches peas whither in the early spring heat, or the squash shrivel due to drought, or apple blossoms bloom too early, only to be killed by frost; when one mourns another season without fruit, one can no longer remove oneself from Mother Nature’s narrative.

As someone who gardens and forages, I feel a deep connection to the seasons and all their changes. I may not fully understand the magnitude of the impact of the seasons, but I feel the struggles of Mother Nature; she reminds me of my connection to her well-being. For me, the way I understand how I can be of service to healing the Earth means to first to live with and through Mother Nature’s cycles; to experience her cycles with all my senses; and to accept that to re-learn her ways, I must get away from the fluorescent lights and the straight, cropped garden rows, and bear witness to the messages found throughout the forest landscape.

I invite you to choose to get familiar with food and medicines that are in season and to embrace the cycle of seasonal changes. Then, and only then, can we truly remember how to love Mother Nature and steward the land in ways that can help us heal the planet and humanity.

Edible wild evening primrose

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Tawny Stowe

 

Photo Credits:

Edible wild evening primrose photo: Tawny Stowe

Header Photo: Karl Heinz Muller, Unsplash

Study after study has highlighted how climate change affects women and girls more adversely, and in different ways, than it affects men and boys. Fewer studies, however, explore the impact of climate change on gender roles. Furthermore, approaches to climate adaptation need to better reflect the growing potential for changes to traditional gender roles due to climate change.

Climate adaptation “refers to actions that reduce the negative impact of climate change, while taking advantage of potential new opportunities.” Adaptation planning can help in managing the impacts of climate change on gender roles in Indigenous communities while shifting away from victimizing Indigenous populations. Instead the focus is on how “community assets and strengths could help to motivate and sustain climate action.” Incorporating a gender-responsive approach to climate adaptation would offer insights into how Indigenous communities are adapting traditional gender roles to climate change, and possibly shifting them in new ways.

An analysis of food systems and food insecurity is one place to start when considering climate adaptation and gender roles. An example of adapting women’s traditional roles in food preparation with community-based education and economic sustainability is the Inuvialuit Community Economic Development Organization (ICEDO) educational program and training facility centred on country food processing. The ICEDO courses teach aspects of “value-added processing” of country foods, including char, muskox, and moose, to show how to make the best use of “portions of meat that are often discarded” and instructs participants in developing “the knowledge and skills required to maximize the commercial viability” of these foods. These educational programs address food insecurity which is especially prevalent in Arctic communities due to the effects of climate change, including earlier melting of winter snowfall.

The call for gender-sensitive responses to the effects of climate change is not new. However, when gender is considered in relation to climate change adaptation and Indigenous peoples, as in the previous example, it remains focused heavily on normative gender binaries, of male and female, and traditional gender roles held by men and women. Experiences of discrimination of people who identify as being from 2SLGBTQQIA+ populations, often prevent them from accessing the supports that could assist them to manage adverse climate effects, including health impacts.

A gender-responsive approach to climate change adaptation would be a step beyond gender-sensitivity, and could more effectively include gender diversity and appreciate the impact of climate change on changing gender roles. A gender-responsive approach would hold the potential to break through conventional approaches to gender analysis that are limited by gender binaries and could recognize how different people experience the impacts of climate change in diverse ways. In turn, services and supports could be designed with a better understanding of the answers to “who matters, who decides, and who benefits” while recognizing people in the way that they want to be recognized. More research is needed to better appreciate and understanding the impact of climate change on gender and changing gender roles due to the impacts of climate change.

 

By Leela Viswanathan

 

(Image Credit: Ives Ives, Unsplash)