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That won’t stop these investors from trying.

Sometimes it’s called the “missing middle,” sometimes, more ominously, the “valley of death.” Whatever the terminology, it’s undeniable that a chasm lies between a climate company’s early funding rounds and its eventual commercial scale-up, one that’s getting harder and harder to bridge. From the first half of last year to the first half of this one, total Series B funding declined by nearly a quarter; beyond Series C rounds — what the market intelligence platform CTVC calls “growth funding” — it declined by a third.
“The capital needs of these businesses have just outgrown their early stage backers,” Frank O’Sullivan, a managing director for S2G Ventures’ energy investments, told me. “But the infrastructure investors have absolutely no appetite whatsoever for taking on an unproven technology and scaling.” S2G makes both early stage and growth stage investments, and O’Sullivan co-authored a white paper last year on the problem of the “missing middle.” The paper found that of the $270 billion in private capital for clean energy raised between 2017 and 2022, just 20% was allocated to late-stage and growth-focused investments, while 43% went to earlier rounds and 37% toward deploying established tech.
Of course, some of climate tech’s funding gap can be attributed to broader trends in the venture market and economic landscape. Covid-related disruptions and low interest rates led investors to throw money at promising startups, only to see their valuations drop as inflation (with rising interest rates to match) and geopolitical uncertainty cooled down the overheated market. Other companies went directly onto the public market via special purpose acquisition companies, only to underperform expectations. “There is capital to be deployed,” O’Sullivan told me. “But a lot of the companies that need that capital are struggling, really, to swallow hard and take significant restructuring of their previous valuations.”
With clean tech in particular, there’s also frequently a mismatch between the abilities of venture firms, which often make their biggest returns on software startups, and the demands of climate tech. The latter tends to require huge investments in physical infrastructure and support for first-of-a-kind projects, and generally has a longer timeline to profitability than, say, an app. “Venture funding, in some sense, was built for scaling software companies,” Lara Pierpoint, managing director of the new catalytic capital program Trellis Climate, told me. “You’re talking about a capital light business that generally is creating something that enters a white space, and for which there’s huge amounts of market potential.”
It’s much more difficult to build expensive infrastructure that aims to displace fossil fuel facilities and the entire economy that relies on the cheap, reliable power they provide. So while VCs may be enthusiastic about taking a relatively small financial bet on a high-potential early-stage company, that may be all they’re able to do.
Trellis, on the other hand, is a part of the climate nonprofit Prime Coalition and funds first-of-a-kind climate projects with philanthropic capital. The nonprofit structure and philanthropy-focused funding model mean that Trellis can take a different tack on missing middle financing than traditional venture or equity investors. For example, Pierpoint told me it can choose whether to invest in a company or just a specific project. Trellis can also help de-risk projects by providing an “insurance backstop” — basically backup capital in case primary project funding falls short. “We’re looking at expanding the kinds of resources and dollars we can bring to the table in general for the ecosystem, because we think that venture can’t do this alone,” Pierpoint told me.
As with all nonprofits, generating big returns isn’t the focus for Trellis. But for traditional investors, that’s the primary goal. And while growth investments in more technically mature solutions are likely to generate consistent returns, O’Sullivan told me they don’t often provide the rarer but more alluring 10x returns that make early-stage venture capital particularly enticing. “So it’s a more balanced portfolio, typically, in that growth equity category. It’s just that you don’t see the high highs,” he said, explaining that a two to 3x return on investments is more realistic.
Brook Porter, a partner and co-founder at the growth-stage firm G2 Venture Partners, told me that focusing on the missing middle can be extremely profitable, though, and that the key to making real money is correctly identifying a company’s “inflection point” — that is, when it’s poised for significant growth and impact. That is, of course, every investor’s dream. But G2’s whole strategy revolves around identifying exactly when this critical juncture will be, tracking more than 2,000 companies per year to identify the ones best poised for breakout scale-up.
The firm spun off in 2016 from Kleiner Perkins’ Green Growth Fund, where Porter and his three co-founders previously worked as senior partners. This is where they honed their theory of inflection point investing, funding companies such as Uber, drone-maker DJI, and Enphase Energy. Porter told me that helping startups move from proof-of-concept to building “that machine of a business” requires a lot of hand-holding, and that “there aren’t as many investors with that skill set,” so it could take a while for this approach to scale.
On the other end of the funding spectrum, large institutional investors like banks, hedge funds, and asset management firms certainly have the money to help bridge the missing middle, but O’Sullivan and Pierpoint told me they’re generally more interested in fulfilling their internal climate mandates by building out more wind and solar, which generates near-guaranteed returns. These investment giants then look at their remaining cash and think, “Well, we should do something more avant garde. Let’s put money into early-stage venture,” O’Sullivan explained. That’s how many seed and Series A-focused funds raise money.
As O’Sullivan sees it, what’s happening now is “a flaw of the structure of capital allocation at the very highest level.” He thinks we could start by reorienting incentives such that large investors such as banks, asset managers, and pension funds get paid in part for helping bring new climate solutions to market, as opposed to just funding the same old, same old. That would allow them to write “right-sized checks” on the order of $50 million to $100 million to ready-to-scale companies — larger than what a VC firm would write, but smaller than what the big infrastructure investors are used to.
How would those alternate funding models actually work? Well, that’s the real question. Pierpoint said she’s often asked whether a new kind of investor or asset class will be necessary to fill the gap, and while she doesn’t have an answer, what she does know is that the group of climate tech companies that’s ready to commercialize “can’t wait 15 years until we have the exact right form of capital.”
“There needs to be urgency on the part of philanthropists, on the part of infrastructure equity investors, on the part of venture capitalists, to really start showing that we can do this,” Pierpoint told me, “and that we can bring together the right capital stacks to make this happen.”
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Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”
Current conditions: A sleepy Atlantic hurricane season just snapped to attention as two tropical storms started forming near the Caribbean and off Africa’s coast • Southern California is bracing for a week of triple-digit temperatures • The Hawk Fire has forced 42,000 people to evacuate an area near Reno, Nevada.
The Environmental Protection Agency plans to repeal a federal rule requiring states to publicize and solicit comments on applications for air pollution permits for various industrial facilities, including new data centers and power plants that provide the electricity they need. The move, The New York Times cautioned, “could prevent residents from raising concerns about — or even learning about — data centers before permits are approved and construction starts.” Three-quarters of Americans now oppose data centers built near their homes, according to the latest polling from Heatmap Pro. That’s up from less than half last year.
The Trump administration’s effort to curb public input comes as local opposition to data centers reaches an intensity that frequently draws comparisons to a moral panic. In a post on X last week, one commentator compared the backlash to a 2004 newspaper clip in which a pregnant woman photographed smoking a cigarette complains that the sound of jackhammers from construction on her block posed a risk to her unborn child. A video circulating on Facebook this week showed the former mayor of the Upstate New York town of Massena, where census data shows one in four residents lives below the poverty line, pleading with residents to consider the benefits of data centers. “They’re data centers. They’re being built somewhere. Communities are accepting these things,” he said, urging residents holding protest signs to listen with an open mind to experts about how a proposed facility would be built. “I know for a fact we have aging infrastructure. It’s just going to get worse. How do you fix that? We’re losing people left and right in this community. Look at the number of boarded-up houses. Look at the number of businesses that are going out of business … You can’t afford the time it’s going to take to research for three years when these things are being built today.”
As you may recall, the Trump administration last week imposed harsh water cuts on the three states in the Lower Basin of the Colorado River: Arizona, California, and Nevada. This week, Nevada Governor Joe Lombardo, a Republican, announced litigation filed in federal district court challenging the Department of the Interior’s plan, arguing that the cuts unfairly harm downstream states like his. The lawsuit makes Nevada the first of the three states to launch what E&E News called a “legal war” against the policy. Under the Trump administration’s proposed plan, southern Nevada could lose more than 70% of what Lombardo called its “already meager Colorado River allocation,” even though Colorado, Utah, New Mexico, and Wyoming “are not required to contribute a drop.” The governor, who is up for reelection, continued: “This isn’t about political posturing; this is a matter of survival for a community that represents about two-thirds of our state’s citizens and the lion’s share of its economy.”
Between 2010 and 2024, the United States imported about 59 terawatt-hours of electricity per year from Canada, and exported roughly 13 terawatt-hours back north across the border. America’s appetite for Canadian electricity is only likely to increase as our northern neighbors build more nuclear reactors, hydroelectric dams, and offshore turbines in areas such near the Northeast, among (I say, haughtily clearing my throat as a fourth-generation New Yorker) the most densely populated and culturally powerful parts of the entire U.S. Now that’s under threat as Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney plays hardball with President Donald Trump in floundering trade talks. After summoning home its trade negotiators over the weekend, Ottawa announced retaliatory tariffs against the U.S. on Tuesday, slapping levies of up to 50% on about $20 billion in goods. On Monday, Ontario Premier Doug Ford said his province could cut off electricity and critical mineral exports to the U.S. “We power 1.5 million homes and businesses,” Ford told the Associated Press. “Everything’s on the table. I’ll do whatever it takes.” While the BBC reported that “squeezing the U.S. on energy is not a current countermeasure,” it also said that such a response “hasn’t been ruled out.” In statements to Utility Dive, the grid operators in New York and New England said new tariffs would not affect reliability, though the latter region cautioned that it could face problems during extreme weather events.
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European buyers of liquified natural gas paid $22.83 for a million British thermal units at the start of this week, more than double the price a year ago and the highest since 2023, according to the Financial Times. The surge came as Iran struck an oil tanker trying to cross the Strait of Hormuz, damaging its engine room and halting the ship. Trump said Tuesday that all underwater mines the Iranian military had laid were now cleared from the waterway. Tehran is set to begin talks with neutral Oman on a route for fully reopening the strait, the Oman Observer reported.
The spike in European LNG prices serves as a reminder of the benefits for the U.S. of becoming the world’s top producer of natural gas and exporter of the version that’s super-chilled to a liquid state for more efficient transportation. LNG, as my colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote in February, “is the ultimate bogeyman” for many progressives and climate activists. But the American industry, transformed by the fracking revolution over the past two decades, had more than enough supply to help Europe stay warm and keep the lights on in 2022, when Russia started throttling the pipelines selling gas to Ukraine’s allies after the start of the war. “The world is going to keep needing natural gas at least until 2050, and likely well beyond that,” John Hebert, a senior policy adviser at the advocacy group Third Way who is pushing for Democrats to embrace LNG, told Matthew. “The focus, in our view, should be much more on how we reduce emissions from the oil and gas value chain and less on actually trying to phase out these fuels entirely.”

When I visited the Netherlands’ lone nuclear power station in 2022, the single-reactor plant, called Borssele, stood alone next to a demolition site dismantling the power station. But soon the country plans to finally expand its atomic power sector. On Tuesday, NucNet reported that the Dutch nuclear energy agency had signed contracts with France’s EDF and the U.S.-based Westinghouse Electric Company for design studies on at least two new reactors. The advancing plans are a sign of how quickly things are changing in the region. At the end of my visit six years ago, I stood atop a high berm — classic Dutch engineering to reclaim the land and keep the floodwaters at bay — at the end of the facility and caught a glimpse at northern Belgium. Back then, Brussels was shutting down its own nuclear fleet. Now, as I reported earlier this year, the country has nationalized its reactors and plans to revive its industry.
Wildfire smoke is nasty stuff. That’s not news to anyone living in the American West, but we in the Northeast learned the hard way just how harmful it is when Canadian smoke poured into our cities this summer and in 2023. But that smoke can have a benefit, at least when rain carries it into soil: It acts as a fertilizer. A new study found that smoke-rain events can deliver large bursts of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium as black soot in the air mixes with water droplets. “It’s important to remember that what goes up must come down,” Alexandra Ponette-González, an urban ecologist at the University of Utah and Natural History Museum of Utah and the lead author of the paper, said in a statement. “There’s so much focus on what goes up and how that affects human health. We’re interested in everything that falls out of the atmosphere and lands on ecosystems, and what that means for our environment.”
The singer’s music spanned genre and generating technology — and asked how to live in a world on fire.
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Even as state-level Republicans have started talking about the data center boom more skeptically, the Trump administration keeps hugging it.
The Environmental Protection Agency will ditch a federal rule requiring states to publicize air pollution permits for major new industrial sites, including data centers and off-grid power plants, The New York Times reports. Those are some of the permits that we used in our recent reporting to, for instance, make sense of the scale of the coming gargantuan gas buildout. This policy might make sense as realpolitik in a more subdued development environment, but I don’t understand it when trust in any type of project is so low — and when even a majority of Republicans have turned on local data center development.
We badly need insight into the scale of artificial intelligence energy use right now, but this policy could make things even more uncertain. It reveals, too, just how much President Trump has fallen out of touch with the public.
I was planning on writing about a different topic today — and then Dolly Parton died. The country legend was 80 years old. Her nephew announced her death on social media in a sad, sweet, and lovely video.
What can I say? She was among the most admired living Americans. So voluminous and impressive was her legacy that I don’t even have to stretch much to find an energy or climate angle in it. How many other musicians were born in a home without heat or electricity — but would be eulogized upon their death by the public utility from their Tennessee Mountain Home?
Her music spanned genres and generating technologies. Some of our readers may appreciate her trio with Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt of Neil Young’s environmentalist classic “After the Gold Rush”; others, her takes on lighting — or liquid combustion. But most will enjoy the lead single off her final album, where the studiously apolitical singer confronted the prospect of a burning world: “Now I ain’t one for speaking out much / But that don’t mean I don’t stay in touch,” she sang. “Liar, liar the world’s on fire / What we gonna do when it all burns down?”
In a fluke, the next tropical cyclone to form in the Atlantic basic will — according to the World Meteorological Organization’s 2026 list — be named Dolly. Let’s hope it puts on a show but doesn’t find any islands in its stream.