Greater Baltimore Climate Initiative
Grants Board
Abell Foundation – Community Development & Small Grants
Supports Baltimore City non-profits and community initiatives tackling urban challenges, including environmental sustainability and urban greening projects. Small grants under $10,000 are reviewed on a rolling basis, while larger capital or program grants have set seasonal review cycles.
Deadline: October 1, 2026
USDA Rural Energy for America Program (REAP) – Clean Energy & Energy Efficiency Grants
Provides guaranteed funding and matching grants covering up to 25% to 50% of total project costs for small businesses and agricultural producers looking to install renewable energy systems (like commercial solar) or make major energy-efficiency upgrades.
Deadline: Quarterly
Chesapeake Bay Trust – Outreach and Restoration Grant Program
Funds local non-profits, community associations, and educational institutions for on-the-ground watershed restoration, tree canopy expansion, rain gardens, and community engagement campaigns that mitigate runoff and climate impacts. Awards range up to $150,000 depending on the project track.
Deadline: September 3, 2026
Jobs + Internship Board
Environmental Remediation and Compliance Business Unit Leader
Offered by Gannett Fleming (GFT) in Baltimore, this senior technical and strategic role oversees regional environmental site assessments, soil/groundwater investigation, and climate-linked infrastructure compliance.
Deadline: October 1, 2026
Early Career Environmental Generalist
Offered by EA Engineering, Science, and Technology, Inc., PBC in the Baltimore/Hunt Valley area, this role supports multimedia environmental compliance, industrial hygiene, field studies, and sustainability/stormwater management planning for clients.
Deadline: August 29, 2026
Baltimore Climate News
Baltimore’s Climate Fight Has A Coordination Problem
Baltimore's climate fight has a coordination problem
If you had to guess what’s standing between Baltimore and a more climate-resilient future, you might picture a lack of money, or a lack of science, or a lack of political will. According to a new ecosystem report from the Greater Baltimore Climate Initiative (GBCI), the real bottleneck is something less dramatic but just as stubborn: coordination.
Baltimore, it turns out, already has most of what it needs. Strong research universities. Active community organizations. Real funding opportunities. A growing clean energy workforce pipeline. What it lacks is a way to connect all of it, and that's exactly the gap GBCI was built to close.
A city built for this fight, but fighting it in silos
The stakes are high. Baltimore is facing sea levels projected to rise 0.8 to 1.6 feet by 2050, with end-of-century projections ranging from about 2 feet, if the world gets serious about emissions, to more than 4 feet if it doesn’t. Flooding, coastal hazards, and extreme heat are already the city's most pressing near-term threats.
And that heat isn’t distributed evenly. Because of decades of underinvestment and historic redlining, low-income Baltimore neighborhoods can run 10 to 17 degrees hotter in the summer than wealthier parts of the city, a gap driven by fewer trees, more pavement, and aging stormwater systems that were never built with equity in mind. Neighborhoods like Brooklyn-Curtis Bay and Westport carry a disproportionate share of this burden, and they’re also among the areas that qualify for federal environmental justice funding, when that funding is actually available.
That “when available” caveat matters more than it should.
Where does the money go?
The EPA’s Environmental and Climate Justice Block Grants and the IRA’s Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund have been caught in legal limbo demonstrates a concerning trend as these are the two biggest federal funding sources. The EPA terminated both programs, and while a federal judge ruled in mid-2026 that the block grant termination was unlawful, the ruling stopped short of ordering the money to actually flow again.
The Greenhouse Gas Reduction Fund tells an even more striking version of this story. In 2024, it awarded $20 billion to national green banks, including $7 billion to Climate United Fund — a Maryland-based green bank. In 2025, the EPA clawed that funding back. It's now frozen pending appeal, with no resolution in sight as of this report.
Closer to home, Johns Hopkins’ Baltimore Social-Environmental Collaborative — a $24.5 million, five-year Department of Energy research initiative — had 75% of its fourth-year funding and all of its fifth-year funding cut in 2025. The equipment was already bought. The staff were already hired. The partnerships were already built. Then the funding wasn’t.
It’s not all bad news, though. In response, the project’s researchers pivoted to a genuinely clever fix: instead of relying on expensive federal-grade sensors, they’re partnering with Morgan State University to build a Baltimore Community Weather Network, powered by residents operating their own weather stations. It’s a smaller, scrappier version of the original vision, but it’s proof that Baltimore’s climate infrastructure doesn’t have to collapse just because Washington’s does.
Baltimore’s green jobs are already happening
Not every part of this story is about waiting for funding to unfreeze. Power52 Energy Institute, Maryland’s first Clean Energy Private Career School, runs a 320-hour solar installation training program that’s already putting Baltimore residents into clean energy careers: no federal court ruling required. It’s the kind of workforce pipeline the report holds up as a model for what "green jobs" can actually look like on the ground, not just in a policy paper.
TreeBaltimore, meanwhile, has a public goal of growing the city’s tree canopy from 28% to 40% by 2037, a target that speaks directly to that heat gap between neighborhoods, since tree cover is one of the most effective (and low-tech) tools against urban heat islands.
So who’s actually in the room?
There are a lot of players identified. More than 60 organizations spanning six categories: government agencies, universities, nonprofits, philanthropy, private businesses, and residents themselves. Baltimore City’s Office of Sustainability, Johns Hopkins, Morgan State University, the Chesapeake Bay Trust, Blue Water Baltimore, Power52, and dozens of others all show up somewhere on this map.
The problem identified isn’t a shortage of good actors: it’s that they’re mostly working in parallel rather than in sync. Government agencies have funding and regulatory power but not always the community relationships to deploy it well. Universities have research capacity but need real-world partnerships. Nonprofits have community trust but often lack the grant-writing staff to compete for funding that exists. Nobody in this ecosystem can close that gap alone, which is exactly the argument for having an organization whose entire job is to connect them.
That’s GBCI’s pitch: it doesn’t try to replace any of these players. It tries to be the connective tissue between them.
A convener with a growing seat at the table
GBCI launched in 2024, inspired by California’s Strategic Growth Council and backed by The Butterfly Effect. Its flagship event, the Greater Baltimore Climate Summit, has already partnered with Morgan State University, Baltimore Green Space, and the HBCU Environmental Justice Technical Collaborative, a credible starting lineup for a young organization. It has since kept the momentum going year-round through a recurring web series covering everything from environmental justice funding to urban heat equity.
That credibility is starting to show up in official channels, too. In January 2026, GBCI’s lead, Cari A. Harris, was appointed to the Maryland Comptroller’s Climate Advisory Council, a two-year term advising the state directly on climate priorities. It’s a small line in the report, but a meaningful one: it means GBCI’s convening work is being recognized not just by the organizations it brings together, but by the state itself.
What happens next
There’s a fairly grounded roadmap: build a “Climate Funding Hub” to match funding opportunities with organizations actually ready to use them, invest directly in nonprofit capacity so good organizations stop losing out to paperwork, diversify funding across federal, state, philanthropic, and private sources so no single court case can freeze the whole pipeline, and keep environmental justice communities involved as co-creators rather than an afterthought.
If Baltimore’s climate story over the past two years has taught us anything, it’s that the work behind the scenes of building trust, capacity, and coordination tends to stick around no matter what happens in Washington.
That may be GBCI’s real bet: that in a moment of federal chaos, the most valuable climate infrastructure a region can build isn’t a single grant or program. It's the relationships that let a city keep moving no matter which way the funding winds blow.
This post draws on GBCI’s Climate Ecosystem Report (July 2026). For the full picture, including the complete stakeholder map, funding landscape, and strategic priorities, the full report is available below.
An Urban Water Study: Rain Gardens Are Already Too Small for Baltimore's Storms
What 39 Baltimore-area climate workers told a regional task force about their jobs
If you ask someone who plants trees for a living, manages stormwater for a county government, or tracks water quality for a nonprofit, what's actually going wrong right now, you get a different picture than the one in most climate reports. Less abstract. More specific. Closer to "the design manual I'm supposed to follow is out of date" than "climate change poses significant challenges."
That's roughly what happened when the Urban Waters Climate Task Force sent out a survey last spring to its network of regional partners. Over seven weeks, from early April to late May of 2024, 39 organizations wrote back: city and county sustainability offices, federal agencies like NOAA and the USDA Forest Service, universities, engineering firms, land trusts, watershed groups. People doing the actual, unglamorous work of getting Baltimore ready for a hotter, wetter future.
Here's what they said.
The stormwater manuals are already out of date
More than half the respondents (54 percent) named flooding and stormwater as their biggest headache. That's not surprising on its own; storms are getting worse across the region. What's more telling is the specific complaint several engineers and nonprofit staff raised: Maryland's official stormwater design manuals haven't caught up to how much rain actually falls now. So people are quietly building around the problem, oversizing rain gardens and bioretention systems beyond what the state guidelines call for, because the guidelines assume storms smaller than the ones showing up.
Even that workaround has limits. A few respondents noted that green infrastructure, the rain gardens and permeable pavement and bioswales that have been the region's go-to flood response for years, is starting to get overwhelmed by storms bigger than what it was designed to handle in the first place.
Trees are struggling too, and the planting calendar is shrinking
The second-biggest concern, cited by 41 percent of respondents, was urban heat and the tree canopy, which sounds like a lower-stakes problem than flooding until you remember how much hotter Baltimore's least shaded neighborhoods run than its greenest ones on a summer day.
The tree side of this has its own quiet crisis. Practitioners described USDA plant hardiness zones shifting warmer across the region, and species that used to do fine here, especially ones suited to cooler, northern climates, struggling to establish. So people are shifting toward species built for warmer conditions, such as coastal-plain and southern trees like sugar maple, that can handle the heat.
But the window to actually plant anything is shrinking. Multiple respondents said their planting seasons have compressed by roughly two weeks on each end, squeezed by earlier, harsher summer heat on one side and more intense late-season droughts on the other. A shorter planting window with more demanding conditions is a bad combination for anyone trying to expand tree cover at scale.
Almost everyone has a plan...not everyone has the same plan
97 percent of respondents said they're actively working on some version of a climate goal or plan. Some of it is big and formal: Howard County's Climate Forward plan, adopted in 2023, targets a 60 percent cut in greenhouse gas emissions from 2005 levels by 2030 and net-zero emissions by 2045. The National Aquarium has committed to net-zero operations by 2035. Johns Hopkins has a sustainability plan in the works. Baltimore City has its own Climate Action Plan.
Other respondents described something less formal: a county department folding climate work into everyday decisions rather than housing it in one office, or a nonprofit adjusting its planting strategy without ever calling it a "climate plan" at all.
A third of these organizations aren't collecting any climate data
This was one of the more useful splits in the survey. Some organizations have real, sustained data programs. The Resilience Authority of Annapolis and Anne Arundel County is running a new water-level sensor network with the University of Maryland and a company called Hohonu. NeighborSpace ran a community flooding survey in Turner Station. NOAA operates buoys that track Chesapeake Bay conditions. The USDA Forest Service studies how trees grow and survive across different site types and latitudes.
But roughly a third of respondents said, essentially, they collect no climate data at all. Not because they don't care, but because it isn't their role, or they don't have the staff, or they rely on whatever the Baltimore Ecosystem Study or the Forest Service already publishes.
More than one respondent, including Baltimore City's own sustainability office, raised the idea of a shared, public climate data clearinghouse for the region, so this information doesn't stay locked in a dozen separate spreadsheets. Nobody had built it yet, but enough people wanted it independently that it seems worth someone actually doing.
People Want To Work Together. They're just not sure with whom.
92 percent of respondents said they're actively looking for new partnerships, mostly around flood resilience, renewable energy and EV infrastructure, and hands-on environmental stewardship like tree planting. The organizations that came up again and again as existing collaborators were the USDA Forest Service, the Baltimore Ecosystem Study, and the Baltimore Social-Environmental Collaborative.
One detail stood out. When the survey asked who else the Task Force should be talking to, only 21 of the 39 respondents answered, a noticeably lower response rate than every other question. Naming your own goals or your own data is easy. Mapping the wider network you're part of takes more effort, or maybe just isn't something people think about day to day. A few of the organizations that did answer pointed toward groups doing environmental justice work, like the South Baltimore Community Land Trust and Action Baybrook, that hadn't shown up much among the direct respondents.
The heat is already changing how people do their jobs, not just what they plan to do
Most respondents, 33 of 39, described concrete ways climate change has already altered their day-to-day operations. Much of it circles back to the same two problems: more flooding, and trickier tree planting. But a few answers stood out. Yieldcamp, a stewardship organization, now brings shade tarps and cooling water sprayers to volunteer events because of extreme heat and fire risk. The Forest Service is running assisted-migration experiments, essentially testing whether trees from warmer regions can be deliberately introduced further north before their old range gets too hot to support them. The University of Maryland launched an urban forestry careers camp. Howard County is rewriting its procurement policy to build sustainability into how the county buys things.
None of this is one dramatic climate response. It's a lot of small, practical adjustments made by people who don't have the luxury of waiting for a bigger fix.
What this all points to
Reading through the 39 responses, the report's own recommendations land on a fairly simple point: this region isn't short on people who care, and that work is already happening. It's short on links between them. A shared data clearinghouse. A working group that pairs practitioners doing tree planting and stormwater engineering with researchers and agencies already studying those exact problems. More deliberate outreach to the environmental justice organizations that kept coming up as "someone we should talk to" but weren't in the room themselves.
It's worth saying plainly that this survey isn't a scientific sample of the whole region. The 39 responses came from a network already connected to the Urban Waters Climate Task Force, so they reflect that group's priorities more than a random cross-section of every organization working on climate in Baltimore. But for a snapshot of what the people actually doing this work are dealing with right now - oversized rain gardens, shrinking planting windows, and a real interest in finding each other - it's about as honest a picture as you're going to get.
This post draws on GBCI’s Urban Waters Survey Analysis Report (July 2026). For the full picture, including in-depth analysis on individual responses, pain points, and strategic priorities, the full report is available below.
Five Things Actually Happening With Climate Work in Baltimore Right Now
The trash wheel, the solar panels, and the highway: where climate money is actually landing in Baltimore
If you follow climate news, you've probably noticed a pattern: the stories are either enormous and far away (a UN summit, a federal rule) or vague and local ("the city is committed to sustainability"). What you don't hear as often is the stuff in between. Money moving. A neighborhood getting something it fought for. A landfill nobody thought about for twenty years turning into a solar farm.
We spent the last few months pulling together everything we could find on climate, clean energy, and environmental justice work happening across the Baltimore region right now, and some of it genuinely surprised us. Here are five stories worth knowing.
A trash wheel, paid for by the people who polluted the river
In April 2025, Maryland's Department of the Environment and the Chesapeake Bay Trust announced $1.7 million going out to 21 different community groups around Back River and the Patapsco. The money isn't a normal grant program. It's the result of a settlement over unauthorized pollution discharges at the two wastewater treatment plants, so the fine for the pollution is now funding the cleanup.
The largest single award, $655,363, is going to the Back River Restoration Committee to design and build a trash wheel, similar to the one you've probably seen (or seen memes of) in the Inner Harbor. Living Classrooms got $222,539 for water quality work in the Lancaster Street canal. The 6th Branch got $154,263 for pollinator gardens across three urban farms. Two separate Blue Water Baltimore grants are funding water quality testing and restoration work in the Herring Run watershed. Nitrogen pollution at the two plants is already down more than 60% since 2022, and the state has committed at least $400 million more for plant upgrades in the next budget.
Solar panels on your roof, at a quarter off your bill
Solar4Us, a project built by the Climate Access Fund at Henderson-Hopkins in East Baltimore, is an 800 kilowatt rooftop community solar system serving 142 low- and moderate-income households at a 25% discount on their electric bills. Eighty percent of the households in the program qualify as low-income. Community solar projects get talked about a lot in the abstract. This one has real numbers attached to real people's bills, which is rarer than you'd think.
Two old landfills, now generating power
Baltimore County has quietly turned two closed landfills into solar farms. Parkton Landfill, finished in October 2025, now holds 15,000 panels generating about 8.2 million kilowatt-hours a year on 213 acres that used to just sit there. A second site, Hernwood, adds another 17.9 million kilowatt-hours annually. Together, the county expects the two projects to get it to roughly 55% renewable electricity by 2028, and because they're structured as 25-year power purchase agreements, the county didn't have to spend anything upfront to build them. If you're a county government sitting on old landfill acreage, this is about as close to a copy-paste solution as clean energy gets.
A highway that split a neighborhood in 1970 is finally getting undone
This is the one that stuck with us the most. In 1970, the construction of what's now known as the Franklin-Mulberry corridor, locally called the Highway to Nowhere, displaced roughly 970 homes, 60 businesses, and 1,500 residents, most of them Black, across the Harlem Park, Poppleton, and Rosemont neighborhoods. The original plan was to connect three interstates. Community opposition stopped it before it was finished, and Baltimore was left with a 1.4-mile stub of highway that connects to nothing.
In 2022, the city got a $2 million federal planning grant for the "West Baltimore United" process, and in 2025, another $85.5 million in construction funding was announced to cap part of the road, remove ramps, and make safety improvements. Maryland's congressional delegation has called Franklin-Mulberry "the poster child" for the federal Reconnecting Communities program nationally. Construction is currently planned to run 2027 to 2029, though those dates aren't locked in yet.
A neighborhood with 70 industrial polluters gets $750,000, and an incinerator loses its clean energy subsidy
Curtis Bay has more than 70 industrial pollution sources in one neighborhood. In 2025, a criminal enforcement settlement with Curtis Bay Energy LP funded a one-time $750,000 "Healthy Environment, Healthy Communities" program for the area. It's not a recurring grant, but it's real money that came directly from an enforcement action rather than a general fund.
Around the same time, after a three-year community campaign, Maryland's 2025 Reclaim Renewable Energy Act removed BRESCO, the South Baltimore trash incinerator, from the state's list of renewable energy sources eligible for subsidies. That redirects roughly $24.7 million a year in ratepayer money away from incineration. Both of these are less about a new program starting and more about money moving away from a polluter or back toward the community that dealt with the pollution, which is honestly the clearer story than most grant announcements.
And the smaller stuff that adds up
A few more worth mentioning quickly. Strength to Love II, a 1.5-acre urban farm run by Intersection of Change in West Baltimore, grows more than 7,000 pounds of produce a year and trains 40 youth annually. The Baltimore Social-Environmental Collaborative, led by Johns Hopkins, runs a network of community-based weather stations across the city for climate science and public education, and it's one of the only projects in our research that showed up independently in two completely different sources, which in this line of work counts as a pretty strong signal. And the region's green workforce programs, Civic Works, Howard EcoWorks, the Baltimore Green Jobs Academy, and the Climate Crew Network, are all training people for the same kinds of jobs, which makes us wonder whether they could eventually work more like one shared pipeline than four separate ones.
Why we're writing this down
None of this fixes everything. Some of the funding sources are one-time settlements, not permanent programs. Some of the timelines above, especially Franklin-Mulberry's construction dates, are still planned rather than confirmed. We've tried to be upfront about that throughout rather than smoothing it over.
But taken together, it's a real picture of where climate money is actually going in this region right now: into a trash wheel, onto rooftops, across two old landfills, back into a neighborhood a highway once tore apart. That's worth knowing, whether you work in this space or you just live here.
This post draws on GBCI’s Regional Climate, Clean Energy, and Environmental Justice Case Studies Report (August 2026). For the full picture, including discussions about various case studies throughout the Greater Baltimore region and analysis of individual responses to the stakeholder survey, the full report is available below.
Stay Connected
To the GBCI Family and Greater Baltimore Climate Community,
We want to take a moment to express our sincere gratitude to each of you for fervently supporting GBCI since its inception during the summer of 2024.
The energy, passion, and knowledge you bring to the Greater Baltimore Climate Community make it a vibrant and invaluable community resource. Every shared event, thoughtful discussion, and collaborative idea strengthens our collective impact on the climate challenges facing our region.
This is a great time to affirm our shared commitment to keeping this group a welcoming, respectful, and productive space for all. To that end, we encourage every member or interested party to please review the attached Group Code of Conduct as it outlines our shared expectations for respectful and collaborative communication, helping us all stay focused on our common goals.
This group is what we make it. By working together and treating each other with respect, we can create a powerful and positive force for climate action and environmental justice in our community. By joining this group, you agree to abide by this Code of Conduct and uphold the shared values that guide our work.
Thank you for being a part of the Greater Baltimore Climate Community.