Summer has its own version of lush around here. I see it most glaringly in two things — mango trees that are vibrant and bearing over, crouched and groaning under the weight of the season’s load of mangoes, full of big bunches of bright, neon green freshly unfurled leaves; and bougainvillea that begins to excessively bloom in profusions — everywhere. Bougainvillea has this amazing tendency to show up, erupt almost, in the dustiest most barren spaces, and is there anything that says summer more than mangoes?

The highway outside my home is being constructed, its a dusty old mess and a serious eyesore, except you’re driving down this dreary stretch of nothingness an concrete and suddenly, at regular intervals your eyes find repose in eye-popping burst of bright pink, dusty orange, white, mango yellow and ashy bougainvillea that now punctuate the barren drive.

It is such a pleasing sight. And this sort of life being seen against all odds, making its presence felt in the most impossible places, screams summer in Goa, for me, like nothing else does.

My “garden” is abloom — and I mean that literally and metaphorically. Perhaps the two are linked. I begin my days with my plants, watching every new leaf unfurling slowly, tracking buds as they slowly open from one day to the next. And I’ve been quietly witnessing with a beating heart, how coming into life is such a delicate, tender process that needs so much attention and love, yet takes its own time. Everything in it’s moment in sunshine, not a day more or less.

It feels like my own experience of coming to (new)life, unfurling, stepping into a new season, growing, flowering seems is reflected in my plants too. The sense of a blossoming, supported by an essential grounded-ness, a standing up tall and seeing the light, facing the gusty evening breeze, feels as wonderful within me, as it does to watch in happen in the little pots that line my terrace.

Within and around me, I feel a visceral sense of a determined new life, claiming its time and bursting at the seams.

Despite the punishing afternoon heat, I got out yesterday to celebrate a milestone by having lunch by myself. I drove around a really pretty part of North Goa, almost transfixed by the verdant views all around. Have things been this lush for a while and am I only just noticing them, I wondered. Or has something changed?

It’s beginning to feel like a really wild celebration of love and life. Much like the celebration within me right now.

One year ago: Bad news never had good timing
Two years ago: In-stages
Three years ago: See Lanka