Spring, 2050
Here is a dream from a dear friend of mine: Jamie Biggar at My Climate Plan.
Spring, 2050 
A fruit tree flowers outside the window.
It’s a lot hotter now. Spring comes earlier, the dry season lasts longer. Water is precious, winter rains carefully conserved. I remember learning about how much water a tree can absorb during a storm, and feel grateful for all those roots.
The roof tiles of the neighbours’ house shimmer with subtle photovoltaics. Wind rustles through the canopy that lines the road.
A tram gently thump-thumps around the corner, bringing the morning’s commuters downtown.
The tram’s destination sign radiates its route, and then flips to show the concentration of carbon pollution in the atmosphere – celebrating another milestone as our shared work draws that carbon down and the soil turns it into life.
I can never get over the bugs. Glorious, glorious bugs. During the Near-Death of the early 2030s I would go months without seeing a single fly. Now the sunlight streams through a school of them. The bird song celebrates their feast.
My child, a little past 30 now, has just told us that they are expecting. My partner and I are sitting in their second room, a room that will be turned into a nursery soon.
I smile.
-*-
Hi friends – part of what motivates us as we’re in the founding year of My Climate Plan is the desire to confront the reality of what our lives will be like as climate impacts get (much) worse, and imagine ourselves being part of a society that rises to that challenge and builds a better world. If trying to imagine ourselves in that story – things getting worse, working together to make things better – resonates with you, then you might be interested in connecting.
Send me your dreams and imaginations folks. I might be able to post them. Visual, music, words, poems – just make sure to include permission to publish them.
Then tell others about them.
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution.”
– Albert Einstein
