Green

I never sleep with the curtains open; I like it to be completely dark, sealing up chinks in the blinds for greater obscurity. And I hate to wake up early, burrowing into the duvet and relishing a few more minutes snooze.

Yet here in Bali I find I do both. Without any effort or discomfort at all.

I love it when the pre-dawn lightening of the sky wakes me at around 6am. Watching the colours outside shift from greys to first soft and then vivid greens as the sun gathers itself up from the horizon. The accompanying soundtrack of frogs and birds and crickets delighting in the new day.

I slept with the doors open till I found a snake on the porch. As a native of temperate zones I have very limited snake experience. It is possible a small shriek was uttered. The moonlight glinting on its smooth scales was my own clue as I padded barefoot to the kitchen for a glass of water. I stopped dead in my tracks. Barely daring to move. Scooting around my brain for slivers of serpent knowledge. I wondered if turning my phone torch onto it would alarm it and lead to an attack or chase it away. I wondered if I could get a photo or if maybe I should be prioritising survival. “The snake bite killed her but at least she got an Instagram shot first”. Was there something about staring at their eyes? Or was that something else. Definitely not running zigzag or climbing a tree… crocodile survival techniques of no help here! In the end the snake made the decision for us and slid silently away. Later the local woman who cleans my place told me it was probably because of Purama, the full moon festival apparently of interest to snakes.

Since then I close the doors at night. But that thin pane of glass is a minimal barrier against the life force of nature on this island. As I lie in bed, having drawn aside the mosquito net, I can see the plants growing. Hear them stretching out their roots and branches. Feel their vibrant juicy energy pushing up to the clear blue sky and reaching deep into the warm earth. I have watched people gardening here. They cut a few branches off a nearby bush and stick them straight in the ground. That’s all it takes. Within days they are sprouting new growth.

Even the ‘dead’ guava tree in my garden, its trunk eaten away by termites and its leaves dead on the path is pushing out new vivid pink flowers today. Hope in the last moments of its life. The urge to make fruit and continue life in the form of its offspring directing its last drops of energy to this one brightly adorned branch.

Amongst the virile verdants the pool lies still. Not for mere pleasure and leisure now, but an essential part of the ecosystem. Delicately toned doves lean over the edge to drink from it. Large bronze dragonflies flit across the surface. The sudden plop of a frog sending ripples towards them.

So many shades of green crowding into each other. Filling my view. No self-respecting interior designer would combine these colours, yet here they work. The thick meaty leaves of one plant chuckle with their quivering fern-like neighbour. The weirdly stunted limbs of the frangipani shoot the breeze with the burgeoning bougainvillea.

Look at that! they seem to chorus at me. It happened again! A whole new day for us! Get up, get out, feel the potential!

Their joy is infectious.