Chris Gloninger is a meteorologist and climate communicator with 18 years of broadcast experience, AMS dual certifications, and a master’s in Emergency Management, specializing in making complex climate topics accessible. He first published this essay on his Substack newsletter, Weathering Climate Change.

The Winter Olympics have always sold us a very specific idea of winter.

Snow that falls on cue. Cold that is sharp but reliable. Mountains that hold their shape and seasons that behave the way we expect them to. For decades, the Games have depended on that stability. Not just for aesthetics, but for safety, fairness, and the simple ability to hold winter sports at all.

That assumption is quietly breaking.

Chris Gloninger is a meteorologist and climate communicator with 18 years of broadcast experience, AMS dual certifications, and a master’s in Emergency Management, specializing in making complex climate topics accessible. He first published this essay on his newsletter, Weathering Climate Change.

As 2024 comes to a close, it’s clear something extraordinary—and unsettling—has been happening in Des Moines. With just five days to go, the city is tied for the second warmest year on record. Highs in the 40s and lows in the 20s ensured the year would cement its place in the top three warmest years since record keeping began in 1879. But this isn’t just a story of numbers; it’s a narrative about change—rapid, undeniable, and deeply concerning.

Weather records in Des Moines stretch back nearly 150 years, offering a rich tapestry of data that helps to understand long-term climate trends. In a stable climate, one might expect the warmest years to be evenly distributed across time—half occurring before 1951 and half after. But that’s not what’s happening. Of the top ten warmest years in Des Moines, seven have occurred since 1951. Even more telling, six of those years have happened since 2010. That’s not just a trend—it’s a flashing red warning light.