Yangon’s landscape is rapidly changing. The colours on the city’s trees are disappearing , washed away by the monsoon rains. The rains have arrived, with a vengeance, pounding down frequently, waking me in the night. Moody black clouds skit across the sky, dumping their weight of water on the country, turning roads into raging rivers within minutes.
The city is lush, vibrant and teeming with life. We have two mynahs basking in the sun, on the grass between downpours. Preening, puffing up their feathers, strutting off to find a new spot every few minutes, perfecting their song repertoire with chirruping vocal exercises. The nighttime racket of frogs, geckos and all manner of beasties is at times as loud as the rains themselves.
Monsoon has truly arrived. And as the seasons move forward, so it is time for a new image as my background.
An image I never tire of is one like this, which stopped me in my tracks yesterday on the way home between showers. A monsoon gift, one perfect teardrop, resting peacefully on its leaf, unaware that it was already shrinking and evaporating feeding the increasing humidity.
And that is the image I choose as we move on, forward with the seasons, surrounded by new life.