This is what we called a Scrapbook

Dear Future Generations,

My name is Julia. I was born and raised all my life in California: one of the many states of USA, a small part of the Northern American continent. A place near by the ocean and was always hot and warm and used to never snow. Now, it’s no is no such place.

One bright morning, I was suddenly aware of the silence in the world.  It took me a while to realize what was missing: the song of birds. Before the slowing, I would wake up when the sun rose. After a brief war with my alarm clock, I would feel the light sunshine spill through my curtains and onto my face. And after the ringing of my alarm faded away, I would hear the chirps of various birds. Oh, how much I miss their songs! That’s when I remembered this scrapbook that I had kept a long time ago.

Now that I look at my scrap book, I wish I could have collected more things with Seth. We began this scrap book together in attempt to preserve the past; to immortalize it. We often imagined this collection of relics of this world we knew passing onto the future or even to a visitor from a faraway planet. We wanted to show what Earth used to be like before the Slowing, what kind of things were considered ‘normal’ for us.  

Seth and I were enthusiastic about our little project. We had a long list of things to record and collect. Every day was a scavenger hunt and everything we picked up felt like a piece of treasure. The last of its kind, the last the world we once knew. Shelves were quickly filled with our collection of dictionaries with leaves and flowers inside them. Sleeping, but living eternally within those pages. As days past, our list got shorter as we ran out of skeletons to collect and living plants became harder to find. Too many things were already dead by then that there was nothing more to look for. If I knew what the world would be like now, I would have taken more pictures and would have collected more things for the scrap book.

Nevertheless, I do remember those days I spent with Seth as we filled up this scrap book. The conversations we had, the way our fingers exchanged the discoveries we made together. Every moment was precious and it seemed like those memories were pressed within the pages like the flowers and leaves. Flipping through the pages, I remembered how much my world had changed even from before the scrap book was made and during this scrap book was in production. How the days and nights were bright and dark and how they grew longer and longer. How the first snow in California got me excited. How the relaxing summer sun turned into hazard radiation and brought painful sunburns. Most of all, how I got used to seeing death every corner and how that made me appreciate the things that were now lost.

What I also came to realize was that I was pretty much doing the same thing as my grandfather: collecting relics of the past. His entire house was filled with antiques, keeping everything from old stamps back from Alaska to all sorts of clocks and watches that ever existed. I never gave a close attention to my grandfather’s collections, though I did enjoy sorting through them with my eyes. Back then, I was too young to know. Wrapped up in my own little world, my own little room, my own little head; places where I felt most comfortable and safe. I was busy worrying about myself and about others that I did not know how to appreciate what I already had. It was after I finally got out of my comfort zone and looked back at what I had lost that I realized the flow of time behind me. I no longer only saw the present, but saw the past as well.

Upon every visit, my grandfather always tried to give me something from his collection but I did not want any of his things. However, I feel like I understand him better now. He must have wanted me to know what his world must have been like by sharing a piece of it with me; his past that I had not the slightest idea about. Now, I found my old self doing exactly the same thing. It is my turn to share the life I lived. This scrap book is my collection of antics that I hope to share with you. It’s only a tiny piece, a small representation, yet you probably cannot find anything on Earth today that is in my scrap book. You may not have the slightest clue what these pictures and dusty flowers are. But if you are reading this, I hope you know one thing. That I have kept this for you and for me as well: to remember what my life was like during my ages of miracles.

I hope birds may still be flying somewhere in your skies.

Sincerely,

Julia 

Whale Beaching

Whales on the Beach, lost and dying

This is not normal. Just saying.
Whales are gigantic, magnificent creates that roam in the ocean.

Seth says the whales use the magnetic field for directions,
but with the magnetic field shifting with the Slowing of the Earth it must be misdirecting them.

People gathered up to both marvel at the site of numerous whales beaching by the California beach and help these helpless creatures go back to where they belonged.
Efforts were made. The humans tried. But nothing worked.
And more and more whales flooded the beach.
People came to care less. We got used to them just they way we got used to the death of birds.

At this rate, I bet none of the whales would be left in the future as well.

This one we called Eucalyptus Tree

Eucalyptus trees decorated every corner of California. 

But with the change in the amount of sunlight the plants were receiving,

these Eucalyptus trees were also dying. 

What was worse, we had to chop them down to prevent them from 

unexpectedly slashing through our roofs.

Where a tall Eucalyptus tree stood lively, 

swaying their long Eucalyptus leaves against the ocean breeze,

only a lonely stout tree trunk now sits.  

After a long search, Seth and I finally found what we were looking for.

The very last living eucalyptus tree. 

It was on the edge of a sandstone by the ocean.

Lonely and withering away.

We gave the last Eucalyptus tree a long warm hug and parted with it.

The barks of the last Eucalyptus tree.
The barks of a healthy Eucalyptus tree  has a
silver color, with a smoother texture

These are the leaves of the Eucalyptus tree

Seth and I now and then visit this old tree.

It kind of became a secrete hide out for us.
Listening to the sounds of the ocean, watching the waves come and go,
and the frequent beaching of the whales as well.

We also knew that this tree would not last long either.

It was a matter of time until this Eucalyptus tree shall too, 

fall and leave this world forever.
The thought of it made me a little scared
but also made me cherish what so little is left of the world I once knew.

Bird Skeleton

Dead birds have become common now. 

More often we would see birds fallen dead on the side walk

than flying through the sky.

A Bird Skeleton

I thought about taking a picture of a dead bird's body also.

But decided not to. Seth agreed and we buried it together.

So instead, Seth did a quick drawing 

along with some descriptions to give an idea of how life slipped away from a dead bird's body.

That's pretty much the gist

At first, they disturbed me.

It was a sign that something was going wrong.

That there was a change happening.

So huge that there was no way we could fix it.

That Earth was dying.

But now, I have grown used to them.

How weird is that?

But that's what's 'common' and 'ordinary' now.

Feathers

Most of the birds have died out as the Slowing began. 

First, there was a bird below my window. 

Then there were three or five on the streets.

Few days later, they were all over the roads, covering the beaches, filling up trash bins.

a nice picture of a seagull I randomly found on the internet.
Because you just don't think of taking a photo of something you're used to seeing everyday, every second.

Seth's drawing of gulls flying over the horizon.
He likes to draw birds.

Seth says he misses watching the birds, any kind of bird, fly across the sky.

He didn't give a damn about birds before.

But when the Slowing hit and birds started dying off, he realized how much he enjoyed observing them.

How much he was used to seeing them.

He said the way the birds flapped their wings gave him a sense of hope and freedom.

Birds were a part of our everyday lives.

And now they're gone.

I remembered reading books and stuff about how people were inspired by the flight of birds.

Like the airplane.

Wonder how many of them would survive in the next few years.

The first feather  Seth and I found together

If you search carefully enough, there are still feathers lying on the ground. 

It's hard to find a feather in decent condition though. 

Usually they're torn up and its fur rough. 

Often too wet or too dried up too.

My mother doesn't like me picking up feathers of dead birds.
She says they probably carry some kind of horrible disease.
Even father takes her side on this matter.
I can't say I disagree with them though.
It's most likely true that these feathers are dirty after all.

So this is what Seth and I do instead.
We create a little art work of our own:

A Day's Collection

Flower Press

Flower Press
This is done by simply putting flowers and leaves in between pages of
heavy books, like a dictionary. 

Seth and I figured that flowers and plants would be the first to die out. 

We realized this when the site of the familiar wild flowers became scarce.

The flowers that were blooming now could be their very last blooming.

Then I remembered the art of Flower Press.

I probably only did it once or twice when I was very young, 

but not much up to know.

This way, I can somewhat remember what flowers looked like.

And also show people from the future
that these were what once grew all over the Earth

This one we called Marigolds

These are blades of grass

These are just a handful of grass from my neighbors' yard. 

Not much of the healthy green grass that I once knew of is left. 

Soon, there will only be a patch of brown and yellow dead grass. 

It's a pity that I can't record the sent of grass...

Especially the smell of grass when they had just been cut during mid summer.

I used to hate that smell. 

But I miss it now. 

I still remember how the grass smelled under my nose as I laid down with Seth 

during the sudden eclipse that took place during school.  

This one Honeysuckles

These are Honeysuckles. One of my favorite flowers around my area.

Like it's name, the flower has a very sweet scent. 

I was not able to find another honeysuckle after this one. 

This one we call rose bush

The dying rosebush near Sylvia's house.
It used to bloom wonderful roses of vivid colors during the summer.
The flowers had withered away and so is the bush itself.
Sylvia still sometimes tend to it, but seems like the bush is already dying and there is nothing left for us to do.
I wish it could bloom one more time.
Just one more time.

This one we called Maple Leaves

Trees are dying as well.
One by one, plants not only around California,
but around the world will die and soon go extinct.
This is why were are collecting what's left of them.