When Grist reporter and Pennsylvania native Eve Andrews moved to Seattle, many people in the Pacific Northwest like to talk about the summers by way of explaining why they live there. While Andrews found it lovely, it wasn’t true summer. Summer is walking outside of your house and instantly glistening. It is a dew point at 70 degrees, grass hot and lush, air so thick with humidity it almost quenches thirst. It is the sworn enemy of sleeves, bangs, and leather upholstery. In summer, one is constantly reminded, for better or for worse, that one inhabits a human body.

Coming to our Senses

And the longer Andrews was deprived of that sticky experience, the more she craved it. So when she moved back to Pennsylvania after seven years, she started to wonder if humans – like animals – require the conditions of their native habitats to survive.  But within a week of moving back, Andrews was in hell. Mosquitos cluttered the air space around her.

Coming to our Senses

It turns out, both mosquitoes and Andrews cherish the same thing when it comes to climate: mugginess.

Humidity, the mosquito, and me

Mosquitoes and I cherish the same thing when it comes to our ideal summer weather: mugginess.

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Arrow

Saying goodbye to the dangerous, alluring scent of gasoline

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Coming to our Senses

How foraging for edible plants helped me connect with my roots

How climate change is muting nature’s symphony

In this Grist series, we explore the multisensory consequences of climate change — from vision and hearing to smell, taste, and touch.

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Humidity, the mosquito, and me

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In defense of darkness

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