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Good afternoon, and welcome to Globe Climate, a newsletter about climate change, environment and resources in Canada.

Every year wildfires make headlines, break records and touch the lives of more Canadians across the country. Cataclysmic fires, sudden evacuations and dangerous smoke are our new reality. In today’s newsletter, wildfire survivors from Lytton and Kelowna in B.C. and Fort McMurray and Jasper in Alberta share what they learned after the devastation.

Now, let’s catch you up on other news.

1. At home: Your fall gardening to-do list
2. Finance: Carney-championed Net-Zero Banking Alliance shuts down after losing most of its members
3. Analysis: Canada’s industrial carbon pricing system is a mess. Here’s how Carney can fix it
4. In memory of: Jane Goodall, primate expert and conservationist, dies at 91
5. From The Decibel: The uncertain future of the multibillion-dollar lobster fishing industry
6. Sharks: Scientists play a dangerous game to learn why Atlantic Canada has more white sharks
7. Agriculture: Meet the migrant workers Canadian farmers depend on to harvest their crops

For this week’s deeper dive, wildfire survivors share what they’ve learned about starting over.

As this year’s wildfire season slows down, we can’t forget how many lives have been touched. To try to grasp how loss on such a large scale affects people and communities, The Globe and Mail talked to people who lived through Canada’s biggest wildfires of the past 15 years. They share the hard lessons they’ve learned, and how they made themselves whole again. Don’t forget to read the full story from Nancy Macdonald, Claire McFarlane and Sophia Coppolino.

Jasper, Alta., 2024

Wendy Wacko, a 74-year-old artist, was hosting a dinner party. An evacuation alert landed at 8:28 p.m, but it said there was “no immediate threat.” Barely 90 minutes later, an evacuation order came blaring from their phones. Two days later, a 10-storey wall of 1,000-degree flames entered Jasper.

“I loved the art collection I had. I loved, loved it. But the most important lesson Dwain and I have learned is that the relationships, the friends you surround yourself with, are the most important thing in life.”

She lost her scarf collection, cherished letters from her dad and loved ones, and her wedding ring.

“The fire changed Dwain and I. The whole situation made me love my husband more than I ever dreamt was possible. We’re kinder to each other. Our relationship is deeper. That’s what matters. Not the ring.”

West Kelowna, B.C., 2023

Aug. 18, was smokier than usual in West Kelowna, where Heather MacKay lives. Having moved to interior B.C. three years prior, the MacKay family had adjusted to the threat of wildfires. That night, the McDougall Creek fire jumped the lake to their neighbourhood, eventually displacing 35,000 people and burning more than 300 buildings, including the MacKays’ home.

For six weeks the family was separated, moving through seven different homes. Dispossessed of four decades of belongings, Heather and her family were left with only gym bags of clothes and each other.

In the following months, any signs of smoke sent her into a spiral. But the goodness of people has stayed with her. She tries to laugh all she can, allowing the heaviness to roll off her shoulders. Her lifestyle has completely changed: She doesn’t live in a big house and she doesn’t have the luxuries she used to. But Heather does have her friends and family, and she received support from communities she didn’t realize she was a part of.

Lytton, B.C., 2021

There aren’t many conversations Meghan Fandrich has with community members that don’t mention the fire that tore through her hometown of Lytton in 2021. After the fire, Fandrich had enough in the bank to issue final paycheques to her employees, but not much else.

The trauma of surviving a wildfire goes far beyond the fire itself; it has permanently altered the landscape of her life. Part of the trauma, she said, manifested in her hesitation to leave her house, even for essential trips. Lytton still doesn’t have a grocery store, which means that she has to drive two hours each way to buy food.

In the years since the fire, Heather has published a book of poetry called Burning Sage, which chronicles the blaze and its aftermath, and lent her voice to climate activism. She’s travelled as far as Ottawa to persuade parliamentarians to take greenhouse-gas emissions, which make wildfires more frequent and severe, more seriously.