Rising temperatures have not only boosted the intensity or frequency of major storms and heatwaves, they have spawned rare or novel weather phenomena, accompanied by new more-or-less scientific names.

“Firenados”, for example, occur when searing heat and turbulent winds rise above out-of-control forest fires in tornado-like columns. California and Australia have seen plenty of these vertical flame-throwers and will likely see a lot more, scientists say.

So-called “dry thunderstorms” in drought-stricken regions such as the southwestern United States are a big tease, producing thunder and lightning but no rain. The air below these high-altitude light-shows is so parched that any moisture produced evaporates on the way down.

Then there are the fire-induced, smoke-infused “pyrocumulonimbus” clouds that darkened Australian skies during the Black Summer of 2019 and 2020, or “urban heat islands” in big cities that run a couple of degrees Celsius hotter than surrounding areas.

But nothing is more terrifying, perhaps, than the potentially deadly combination of heat and relative humidity. A healthy human adult in the shade with unlimited drinking water will die if so-called “wet-bulb” temperatures exceed 35°C for six hours, scientists have calculated.

Meanwhile, an increase in algae blooms, sometimes known as “sea snot”, is one thing, at least, that cannot be blamed on climate change.

Elsewhere, a critical United Nations assessment of climate science currently under review by 196 countries will highlight the rising threat of “tipping points” in Earth’s climate system. Anyone who has tried to balance in a chair on two legs knows there is a point of no return beyond which things crash to the floor.

And so it is with kilometres-thick ice sheets atop Greenland and West Antarctica holding enough frozen water to lift oceans more than a dozen metres. It may take centuries or longer, but scientists say big chunks are already “committed”, and the melting “locked-in”.

Likewise with the Amazon basin. Climate change coupled with fires set ablaze to clear land for cattle and crops are pushing the world’s largest tropical forest – a process dubbed “savannafication” – into arid expanses of grasslands. These shifts are accelerated by vicious cycles of warming that scientists call “feedbacks”.

As the thin crust of snow-covered ice floating on the Arctic Ocean gives way over the years to deep blue sea, the sun’s planet-warming radiation is absorbed rather than bounced back into space. The reflective capacity of white surfaces is called “albedo”.

How do humans react to all these grim tidings? Some slip into “doomism”, the understandable but useless idea that the “Earth system” – now a branch of science – is in a terminal nose dive.

Humanity, scientists will point out, has almost used up its “carbon budget”, and is on track to massively “overshoot” the Paris treaty goal of capping global warming at 1.5° above pre-industrial levels.

Others are suffering from a mental state known as “solastalgia”, which combines melancholy, grief and nostalgia for a world that seems to be slipping from humanity’s grasp.

At the other extreme, the “Greta effect” has given rise to a generation of uncompromising climate warriors inspired by the young Swedish activist, known in Italy as “Gretini”.

Post-Covid, their parents dream of escaping to Bali or the Maldives for some “last-chance tourism” before all the coral reefs die. But “flight shaming” for the carbon footprint of flying halfway across the globe may prevent them from getting off the ground.

So the family might as well settle in for a “Cli-Fi” movie on Netflix – “Interstellar” and “Snowpiercer” perhaps – or a documentary on how “blue carbon” in the ocean could save us all.