03/06/2026
The season is shifting. The signs are subtle but unmistakable if you know what to watch for.
The chicharras (cicadas) have changed their song — that relentless, electric wall of sound that fills the dry season heat is shifting in pitch and urgency, as if they know something is coming.
At dusk, the luciérnagas (fireflies) appear in the garden, their cold green light blinking through the humid air. They don’t come out like this in the dry months. Their presence is a quiet announcement.
And then there are the cangrejos de tierra (land crabs) — palm-sized, purposeful, emerging from their burrows and picking their way across paths and patios with a confidence that says the ground is about to change. They’ve been reading the barometric pressure longer than any weather app.
And underneath it all, the smell. Ripe mangoes dropping from the trees, splitting open on the hot ground, filling the air with something pungent and fermented and sweet — the smell of abundance tipping over into decay, of a season ending and another about to break open.
The air is heavy. Green. Like the earth is already remembering what rain feels like.
La temporada de lluvias is coming to Chacala. And the creatures that have lived through a thousand of these seasons are ready…and so are we 💜💜💜
