Goodable

Neutral Foods is making waves in the dairy industry! This innovative carbon-neutral food company is leading the way in reducing emissions on farms across America. The Milk company is enhancing cow diets with essential oils and separating solids from liquids when managing manure. The results? Reduced methane emissions, improved cow health, increased milk production and lower feed costs for farmers! Thanks to this creative approach, Neutral Foods is making strides to help save the planet while bringing eco-friendly milk to grocery stores across America.

<p>Neutral Foods is making waves in the dairy industry! This innovative carbon-neutral food company is leading the way in reducing emissions on farms across America. The Milk company is enhancing cow diets with essential oils and separating solids from liquids when managing manure. The results? Reduced methane emissions, improved cow health, increased milk production and lower feed costs for farmers! Thanks to this creative approach, Neutral Foods is making strides to help save the planet while bringing eco-friendly milk to grocery stores across America.<br></p>

How Neutral Milk is Helping Farmers Save The Planet

Artnet

New York audiences are about to watch Titanic like they’ve never seen it before. Starting Friday, Cristin Tierney Gallery will screen an ambitious shot-by-shot remake of James Cameron’s 1997 blockbuster. The project began more than a decade ago as a handmade experiment by Chilean artist Claudia Bitrán and eventually grew into a sprawling collaboration involving roughly 1,400 people.

The work, Titanic, A Deep Emotion, is making its New York premiere. Bitrán stitched it together using drawing, painting, performance, sculpture, and a healthy amount of lo fi ingenuity, including stop-motion submarines in the opening scene. “I really love to make work that broad audiences outside the art world can relate to, understand, or follow,” she said over the phone. “I adore this film. I love James Cameron’s craft. I think it’s really a perfect film that has aged really well.”

For Bitrán, the movie has been a lifelong touchstone. Like many, she first saw Titanic as a preteen and was instantly absorbed. Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio’s doomed romance aboard the ill-fated ship became an enduring cultural force. Bitrán, who has long centered pop culture in her work, knew the story by heart and decided it was the perfect vehicle for a wide ranging, playful deconstruction. “I’ve seen it a million times,” she said.

She set firm rules for the remake. She would play Rose. Jack and all other characters would rotate among performers of any age, gender, or background. All special effects had to be handmade, often with recycled materials. Dialogue could unfold in any language. The constraints kept the project flexible as she worked across the U.S., Mexico, and Chile, and they helped her reshape the film’s emotional beats.

Using multiple Jacks became one of the project’s most striking decisions. When Jack stops Rose from jumping, Bitrán cast actor Rosalie Lowe to underscore the idea that Rose could save herself. In the “door scene,” Jack is played by Bitrán’s 10 year old cousin, shifting the dynamic to something closer to a mother and child, heightening the loss.

Bitrán stepping into Rose’s role also echoed her earlier project reenacting Britney Spears music videos with handmade sets. Taking on another performer’s identity, she said, created a sense of empathy. “Kate Winslet was criticized for her body at that time and I had a similar body type,” she said. “I felt for her and I kind of lived through her, through that criticism, in the same way I lived with Britney through hers.”

The handmade universe around her includes painted backdrops, cardboard furniture, recreated artworks, improvised environments, and even an inflatable version of the ship. Sometimes Bitrán would encounter a real location that reminded her of a scene and would stage an impromptu shoot. “It’s kind of a collage,” she said.

The result is intentionally rough around the edges, the opposite of Cameron’s sweeping, big budget spectacle. But the ragged charm is part of its pull. It dismantles the grandeur while showing how deeply the story still resonates. After 12 years of production, the project became its own kind of epic.

The installation in New York spans three video channels and is accompanied by props, paintings, storyboards, still images, notes, and other material documenting the scale of the undertaking. The film had its European premiere at Kiosk in Belgium last year. Bitrán is also working on a documentary about the decade long process and is seeking financial support to complete it.

Her connection to the film, she admitted, is unlikely to fade. “Even though the movie’s done, I think that I’m still going to be this person that lives through that movie. I’ve seen the world this way since I saw it when I was 10. It’s like the thing that will always be there,” she said. Then, almost without realizing it, she echoed the film’s most famous line. “I feel like this is something that I’ll never let go.”

Titanic, A Deep Emotion runs at Cristin Tierney Gallery, 49 Walker St., New York, from February 20 to March 28, 2026.

Artist Debuts A Shot-By-Shot, DIY Remake Of Titanic In New York

CTV News

A wedding dress with a story stitched into every seam is now on view at the Cradle of Aviation Museum in Garden City, where visitors can see a rare Second World War era gown made from a U.S. Air Corps parachute. The dress, on display until Sunday, was created from the silk canopy that Lieutenant George Braet believed had once saved his life.

Braet brought the unused parachute home after the war. It had never deployed, but he was convinced it stopped a piece of flak from striking him during a mission over Hitler’s Europe in February 1944. Later, when he married his bride, Evelyn, in 1945, she chose to have her wedding dress made from that same parachute.

“It represents their love. It represents my mother’s ingenuity, my mother’s creativity; silk was so rare,” their daughter Kate Braet of Bay Shore said. “And at the time of the pictures of it was white, white silk. Just absolutely gorgeous in her wedding pictures.”

Lt. Braet flew 53 missions as a B17 bomber pilot, navigating enemy fire throughout the European campaign. His family believes the parachute’s fabric quite literally kept his future intact. “Their legacy continued because of that piece of silk,” Kate Braet said.

The couple went on to raise five children across the United States, including in Hauppauge. Their grandson, Ben Steelman, said their resilience shaped the generations that followed. “They encountered obstacles that we really can’t imagine and they put on a good face and they always saw the silver lining and they always saw the brighter side and kind of kept things moving,” he said.

At the museum, the dress stands among aircraft and space memorabilia, but its story is what gives it weight. “The museum is all about stories and it’s all about people. We do have 75 planes and spacecraft, but it’s more important about the people that flew it,” said museum president Andrew Parton.

The gown is a reminder that even after war, love can take the remnants of survival and turn them into something beautiful. Visitors can see it through February 22, and museum curators say they plan to bring it back for future exhibitions.

A WWII Parachute That Saved A Pilot’s Life Became His Bride’s Wedding Dress. Now It’s On Display On Long Island

Talker News

When Cody Brewer slipped into her grandmother’s 1957 wedding dress last year, it fit so perfectly that she immediately knew it had to be part of her own wedding. What she didn’t expect was how deeply the choice would connect three generations of women.

Cody, 27, married her husband, Kellen Brewer, 30, on Sept. 28 in Siena, Italy. Her grandmother, 90 year old Mary Ann Perry, couldn’t travel to the destination wedding. So Cody decided to honor her in the most personal way she could think of. She transformed Perry’s gown, tucked away in a closet for decades, into a modern minidress for the reception.

“She was shocked that I even loved it, and deeply touched by the idea,” Cody told PEOPLE. “Breathing new life into her dress felt like the most intimate way to carry her with me on our wedding day.”

That bond runs deep. “Honoring her felt especially important to me,” Cody said. “We share a deep bond, and she has always been a constant, meaningful presence in my life.”

After trying on the original gown and finding it a perfect fit, Cody knew she had to wear it somehow. Perry fully supported the plan. “She left me the sweetest voicemail, telling me she couldn’t stop thinking about the dress, how impressed she was by the idea, and how much she couldn’t wait to see photos,” Cody recalled. “I still listen to that voicemail all the time.”

With her grandmother’s blessing, Cody brought the dress to a local seamstress experienced with vintage pieces. The redesign took about six months and moved slowly by intention. They first experimented with a high low look, then gradually shortened the skirt until the final silhouette felt right.

Cody loved everything about the original gown, from the floral lace and drop waist to the delicate back buttons and the soft, yellowed hue that carried nearly seven decades of history. The bodice stayed mostly untouched, while the skirt was trimmed to mid thigh and shaped with a bubble hem for a round, playful finish.

Her inspiration came from trying on a modern mini bubble hem dress during her search. “At some point it clicked: why not take this already meaningful, beautiful piece and transform it into that look instead?” she said. “Turning my grandmother’s dress into something playful yet still steeped in history felt far more personal. It felt timeless, intentional, and unmistakably me.”

At the reception, Cody said she felt like “a dainty vintage bride.” The lighter dress made the night easier to enjoy after wearing a ceremony gown with a heavy train. “It struck the perfect balance between romantic and playful,” she said. “Slipping into something lighter and more comfortable made dancing feel effortless and joyful.”

Her family loved the idea from the start. The dress had been stored for years in her mother’s closet, and seeing it revived meant a great deal. “Giving it a second life felt incredibly special to all of us,” Cody said. “Knowing that something I wore on my wedding day carried so much history and intention, and wasn’t something that could ever be bought from a store. It was truly one of a kind.”

More than 130,000 people have liked a TikTok video Cody shared documenting the transformation. The dress, once nearly forgotten, is now part of a new chapter.

Baby Giraffe Eugene Charms Toledo Zoo Visitors With Adorable Tuft Of Hair

People

Ukrainian skeleton athlete Vladislav Heraskevych, who was banned from the 2026 Winter Olympics after wearing a helmet honoring athletes killed in the Ukraine Russia war, has received a major financial boost from a prominent Ukrainian businessman. The gift, worth 200,000 dollars, is intended to help him continue both his sporting career and his public advocacy.

Rinat Akhmetov, one of Ukraine’s most influential business figures, announced the contribution this week. He said he wanted Heraskevych to have the means “to continue his sporting career, as well as to fight for truth, freedom and the remembrance of those who gave their lives for Ukraine,” according to the Associated Press.

“Vlad Heraskevych was denied the opportunity to compete for victory at the Olympic Games, yet he returns to Ukraine a true winner,” Akhmetov said. “The respect and pride he has earned among Ukrainians through his actions are the highest reward.”

The amount mirrors what a Ukrainian athlete would have received from the government for winning a gold medal at the 2026 Games. Akhmetov’s statement added that the support is meant “to ensure the athlete and his coaching staff have the necessary resources to continue their sporting career and their advocacy for Ukraine on the international stage.”

Heraskevych’s clash with Olympic officials became one of the defining stories of the Milan Cortina Games. His grey helmet carried images of about two dozen Ukrainian athletes killed since Russia’s invasion began in early 2022. “Some of them were my friends,” he told Reuters. The athletes depicted included weightlifter Alina Peregudova, boxer Pavlo Ishchenko, and ice hockey player Oleksiy Loginov.

The International Olympic Committee said the Ukrainian delegation had been informed that the helmet violated rules prohibiting political demonstrations. Heraskevych wore it anyway during his next run. Two days later, the IOC banned him from competition. Photos later showed his father, who is also his coach, breaking down after learning of the decision.

Heraskevych responded with a brief message on social media, calling the penalty “the price of our dignity,” written in both Ukrainian and English.

The ban ended his Olympic campaign, but the gesture from Akhmetov ensures his work will continue, on and off the track.

Ukrainian Skeleton Racer Banned From Olympics Uses $200K Gift To Continue Advocacy

Good News Network

China’s decades long push to surround the Taklamakan Desert with trees has delivered something no one fully expected. The manmade forest belt, planted to stop sandstorms from swallowing grasslands and farmland, is now acting as a carbon sink, drawing measurable amounts of CO2 out of the atmosphere.

The Taklamakan is one of the most hostile places on Earth. Known in antiquity as the “sea of death,” it sits farther from any ocean than anywhere else on the planet. Massive mountain ranges, the Himalayas, the Pamirs, the Tian Shan and the Altai, wall it off from moisture. Vegetation is nearly nonexistent. Deserts cover a third of the Earth’s surface but hold less than one tenth of the world’s underground carbon stock. That makes them poor candidates for absorbing greenhouse gases.

In 1978, China set out to change that. The Three North Shelter Belt program aimed to plant a protective ring of trees along the Taklamakan’s borders to stop its sands from overrunning nearby communities. By the time the project finished in 2024, an estimated 66 billion trees had been planted, earning the nickname the Green Great Wall.

The greenery did exactly what it was designed to do. It cut back sand creep and protected agricultural land. But it also did something else. The tree line boosted rainfall by several millimeters, enough to spark seasonal growth and photosynthesis. That extra growth began capturing carbon at a scale no one had clearly measured until now.

A study from NASA and Caltech used satellite data to show that even a desert as extreme as the Taklamakan can be transformed into a functioning carbon sink. “We found, for the first time, that human-led intervention can effectively enhance carbon sequestration in even the most extreme arid landscapes, demonstrating the potential to transform a desert into a carbon sink and halt desertification,” study co author Yuk Yung told Live Science in an email. Yung is a professor of planetary science at Caltech and a senior research scientist at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

The numbers tell the story. The average carbon content in the desert air has dropped from 416 parts per million to 413 ppm. For comparison, the global average today is 429.3 ppm. Before industrialization, it was 350.

Tree planting alone will not solve the climate crisis. Atmospheric CO2 levels continue to rise, and there is only so much land available for forest cover. But the research suggests something new. If shelter belt style projects can reclaim even a fraction of the desert land now sitting idle, they could unlock vast new areas for carbon absorption.

For a region once defined by sand and silence, the idea that it could help cool the planet is a shift no one saw coming.

China’s “Green Great Wall” Is Doing More Than Stopping Sand. It’s Pulling Carbon From The Air

Science Daily

Ocean waves carry one of the largest steady supplies of renewable energy on the planet, but turning that motion into electricity has been harder than it sounds. Most devices work only when the sea behaves a certain way. Once conditions shift, performance drops. That gap has sent researchers looking for something more adaptable.

A researcher at the University of Osaka decided to test a different idea, a gyroscopic wave energy converter, or GWEC. The study, published this month in the Journal of Fluid Mechanics, examined how well this design could scale up to real power generation.

The hardware looks simple at first. A floating platform carries a spinning flywheel inside it. When waves move the platform, the flywheel reacts and produces electricity. Because the flywheel behaves like a gyroscope, the system can be adjusted so it keeps capturing energy across many wave frequencies instead of relying on one perfect condition.

The physics at the center of the design is gyroscopic precession. When something spinning fast gets pushed, it shifts at a right angle to the force. In this case, waves cause the platform to pitch up and down. The spinning flywheel responds by changing its orientation through precession, and that motion is tied to a generator.

"Wave energy devices often struggle because ocean conditions are constantly changing," says Takahito Iida, author of the study. "However, a gyroscopic system can be controlled in a way that maintains high energy absorption, even as wave frequencies vary."

To see how far the idea could go, the researcher modeled the system using linear wave theory. The analysis looked at how the waves, the floating platform, and the gyroscope all interact. From that, ideal operating settings were calculated, including how fast the flywheel should spin and how the generator should be controlled.

The result surprised even the researcher. When tuned properly, the GWEC can reach the theoretical maximum energy absorption efficiency of one half at any wave frequency.

"This efficiency limit is a fundamental constraint in wave energy theory," explains Iida. "What is exciting is that we now know that it can be reached across broadband frequencies, not just at a single resonant condition."

Simulations backed up the model. Tests in both frequency and time domains showed the device keeping strong efficiency near its resonance point. More detailed time domain simulations added nonlinear gyroscopic behavior to check for limits. Even then, the system held steady, performing best when the device's motion lined up with the natural rhythm of the waves.

The takeaway was straightforward. By fine tuning the flywheel speed and generator controls, engineers can build wave energy systems that handle a wider range of conditions. That flexibility is something the sector has always struggled to achieve.

As researchers look for renewable energy sources that are steady and predictable, tapping the power of the ocean remains a tempting possibility. This study offers a clearer picture of how a gyroscopic design could help make that possible.

Story Source: Materials provided by The University of Osaka.

Could a Spinning Gyroscope Unlock New Ocean Wave Energy Potential?

Norway’s men’s curling team stepped onto the ice in Cortina d’Ampezzo on February 17 wearing something fans had been hoping to see again for years, the iconic red, white and blue “fun pants” that became a global hit at past Winter Olympics.

The bold trousers were first made famous in 2010 by Thomas Ulsrud’s team, a group whose playful swagger helped turn curling into must-watch entertainment at the Vancouver Games. They wore them again in 2014 and 2018, but after Ulsrud died of cancer in 2022, the tradition stopped.

This year, the idea of reviving them lingered as soon as the current squad qualified for the Milan Games. Magnus Ramsfjell, 28, said the thought was “in the back of our minds,” but the team hesitated. “It was Team Ulsrud’s thing,” he said. They wanted to respect that.

So they asked Ulsrud’s former teammates directly. The answer came back without hesitation. “Of course, if you want to go for it, go for it.”

What followed was a compromise everyone felt good about. One game only. One moment to honor Ulsrud and the entire team that built the tradition. “Wearing the fully Norwegian outfits out there on the ice, that would be just amazing for all parties,” Ramsfjell said.

He also acknowledged why the pants mattered beyond tribute. “It’s something about curling being a bit silly, and then people showing up looking a bit silly. I feel like it’s a perfect synergy.”

For Ramsfjell, the gesture carried emotional weight too. He called Ulsrud “an incredible guy, incredible curler” whose “passion for curling is something that I wish everyone can try to carry forward.”

The night also featured a familiar face on the other side of the sheet. Sweden’s Niklas Edin, who competed against Ulsrud in 2010, could not resist a joke. Seeing the Norwegians step onto the ice, he called them “four clowns coming up and down the ice.” But the affection was real. Ulsrud’s team, he said, were “some of our best friends for the better part of two decades,” and the current Norwegian curlers are “the same to be honest, super nice personalities.”

“We always had a good laugh,” Edin added. “Fantastic memories with those teams.”

The pants were loud, bright and a little silly, just like they were meant to be. They also said something quieter. A teammate gone too soon is not forgotten, and a curling tradition built on joy still has room to grow.

Norwegian Curling Team Honors Late Curler With Return Of Iconic Pants

Fox News

Crowds have been lining up outside Ichikawa City Zoo for days, all hoping to catch a glimpse of a baby macaque who refuses to let go of an oversized stuffed orangutan.

The six month old monkey, known as Punch kun, has become a national sensation. Photos of him dragging the plush toy around his enclosure, eating next to it and curling up beside it to sleep spread quickly across social media and brought visitors flooding to the small zoo near Tokyo.

Zoo staff did not expect any of it. In a statement posted on X on February 15, officials said, “All of our staff were surprised by the unexpected turnout, something we have never experienced before,” and apologized as long entrance lines formed.

The sudden attention sits on top of a tougher beginning. According to News.au and the zoo’s own posts, Punch was born in July 2025 but was abandoned by his mother shortly after birth. Keepers stepped in immediately to hand raise him, watching his development closely and easing him into contact with other macaques.

Once he joined the group full time, they noticed he was struggling. Baby macaques normally cling to their mothers from the moment they are born. Without that bond, Punch showed signs of anxiety and had trouble connecting with the others. Caretakers tried offering him comfort, eventually giving him the oversized orangutan. He grabbed hold and never let go.

Images of the bond travelled fast. Visitors from across Japan began showing up, eager to see him and his orange companion. The reactions have been mixed. “It is cute to see the little monkey dragging the stuffed animal around but it is very sad at the same time,” one person wrote on X. Another visitor said Punch proudly showed off the toy while running and lying down during their trip. Others shared worry about how he is coping, while praising the staff for supporting him. “I really hope Punch finds his place,” one commenter wrote. “Seeing the staff support him through his struggles shows their deep commitment.”

The zoo says there are signs he is starting to settle in. In a recent update, staff reported that Punch is “gradually deepening his interactions” with the other macaques. He has begun being groomed, playing, testing boundaries and even getting scolded, all normal parts of social learning for young monkeys.

For now the stuffed orangutan remains close at hand. Even with crowds gathered at the glass, Punch can usually be found gripping the plush figure that has become his stand in for the mother he never knew.

Orphaned Baby Monkey Found Comfort in a Stuffy After Being Abandoned At Birth — Then He Got His First Hug

Smithsonian Magazine

From bronze armor to carbon fiber, helmets have always done one job: protect the head. But some of them carry stories too, the kind that reveal bursts of imagination and grit. The Gentex HGU 55/P is a standard flight helmet in the United States Air Force. The one on display at the National Air and Space Museum’s Steven F. Udvar Hazy Center carries something extra. It belonged to Colonel Nicole Malachowski, the first woman to perform with the Thunderbirds.

For Malachowski, the dream began early. In 1979, at age 5, she announced she wanted to be a military pilot. That was impossible for women then. She learned that the hard way in sixth grade, when she told her class, “I’m going to be a fighter pilot,” only to be met with laughter. “My teacher said, ‘Sit down and come back next week when you have something more realistic.’ I did not know that it was against the law, and it would be against the law until 1992 for women to be fighter pilots,” she tells Smithsonian.

The setback did not deter her. She started flying lessons at 12, made her first solo flight at 16, and might have drifted toward commercial aviation if not for a family trip to the Smithsonian. That was where she discovered the Women Airforce Service Pilots, the civilian squad who ferried aircraft, transported cargo, and trained male pilots during World War II. The small photo she found had an oversized effect. “Women were flying military aircraft ... they weren’t flying in combat, but they were training men to go to combat. And [that] reinvigorated my goal.”

Her timing carried its own stroke of luck. In 1992, the same year she entered the Air Force Academy, the ban on women flying combat missions was lifted. She went on to fly 26 combat missions during Operation Iraqi Freedom, all before earning a place with the Thunderbirds in 2005. Over the next two years, she performed at more than 140 events, often flying mere inches from her teammates in tight formations meant to show off the Air Force at its best.

The helmet she wore during that run tells a wider story about flight and the forces that come with it. Alex Spencer, a curator at the National Air and Space Museum, points to how much pilot gear reveals about the changing demands of aviation. Early pilots sat in open cockpits and worried mostly about cold air. “They wore Snoopy helmets,” he says. “Just a little leather cap to keep the wind out of their hair.” By the time supersonic jets like the F 16 arrived in the late 1970s, pilots needed padding, oxygen hookups, radios, and protective visors. By the 1990s, when Malachowski was flying, every part of the helmet served a clear physical purpose.

Thunderbirds helmets also serve as calling cards. Each one is custom-painted with names and team logos and polished to a bright shine. When Malachowski received hers at the end of training, it came with a handwritten note from the artist. She remembers it clearly. The artist wrote that his young daughter had never shown interest in the helmets before. But when he told her this one was for the first woman pilot, she wanted to help polish it.

That moment stayed with Malachowski. She knew what her presence on the team could mean. “It was never about me,” she says. “It’s that a woman was doing it, and if she can dream big, anyone can dream big. Why not blaze your own trail?”

The Thunderbirds are known for their precision flying, but their jets also carry one recognizable trait. They trail dense white smoke. Pilots flip a switch on the throttle to inject paraffin-based smoke oil directly into the exhaust, and when it hits, the oil vaporizes into the billowing streaks that mark each maneuver.

For Malachowski, those streaks were more than a spectacle. They were a signal to the crowds below, especially the ones who had been told their dreams were unrealistic.

The helmet now sitting in a museum display case is a reminder of that shift. It still reflects the red, white, and blue shine of the Thunderbirds. It also reflects the path of a pilot who refused to sit down when she was told to, and who helped widen the sky for everyone who followed.

Meet the Trailblazing Pilot That Inspired Generations as First Woman in Thunderbirds

Canadian Muslims welcomed the start of Ramadan on Wednesday, and for the first time in roughly two decades, the entire holy month will fall in winter. With Canada’s 1.8 million Muslims following the lunar calendar, Ramadan shifts earlier each year. “This year, it is coming earlier in winter time after a long time,” said Noor Al Henedy, spokesperson for Edmonton’s Al Rashid Mosque.

Shorter days mean shorter fasts, something Al Henedy admits will make the month feel different. “Fasting for me is going to be much more pleasant,” she said with a laugh. “It’ll be easier for my kids, because they’ll be less antsy.”

Ramadan centres on fasting from dawn to dusk, acts of charity, and deep spiritual reflection. It is also a time of gathering. Al Rashid, Canada’s first mosque, sees up to 5,000 worshippers a day in the opening stretch of the month. Families cook together, eat together and stand shoulder to shoulder in prayer.

The mosque is planning its annual “A Taste of Ramadan” in March, offering halal burgers and hot dogs in partnership with local non profits. The goal is to welcome the wider community. “Celebrating, breaking bread with others and charity are a large component of the holy month,” Al Henedy said.

That tradition has deep roots in Canada. When Muslims first arrived in Alberta in the late 1800s and early 1900s, they were a small community. They invited neighbours to join them during Ramadan, and eventually, with help from a Ukrainian builder and Edmonton’s mayor, constructed Al Rashid in 1938. The original building now sits at Fort Edmonton Park. “The women … really led the efforts back then when they were starting to build the first mosque … and that created an opportunity for interfaith exchange,” she said. “We are very proud of that story.”

Edmonton’s Muslim population has since grown to about 100,000, bringing new traditions with it. Several mosques now broadcast the sunset call to prayer, the Azaan, during Ramadan. The sound, familiar across Muslim majority countries, was prohibited by noise bylaws until 2021, when exceptions were granted. For many youth, hearing it is a first. For elders, it is a wave of memory. “It’s like a (throwback) experience,” Al Henedy said. “It’s really helped the Muslim community carry forth the pride in our faith … and really help us be very unapologetic about who we are.”

But Ramadan in Canada also brings challenges. Sikander Hashmi, executive director of the Canadian Council of Imams, said increased security has become routine. “There’s of course haters, Islamophobes who don’t like the presence of Muslims, that are a primary threat, and can sometimes create challenges,” he said. Incidents have included attempted vehicle attacks, slurs, stones thrown at windows and physical injuries. “At mosques across the country, there’s definitely been a lot of investments in security infrastructure, especially with federal and provincial funding, in recent years,” he said.

Still, communities continue to gather, give and celebrate. In Edmonton, the city will light the High Level Bridge on March 20 for Eid, the festival marking the end of Ramadan. “These actions reflect the city’s commitment to recognizing the diversity of Edmonton and supporting meaningful connections with the communities we serve,” city spokeswoman Rae Thygesen said.

For many families, this winter Ramadan will be both familiar and new, a reminder of faith rooted in tradition and shaped by the place they now call home.

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