Planning for Summer

Some mornings are about getting more done. Others are about learning how to do it better. This Sunday felt like the latter.

A light drizzle welcomed us as we climbed Baner Hill, making the morning cooler and reminding us why all this work matters. The soil was softer, the air fresher, and for a couple of hours, work didn't quite feel like work.

Together, nine volunteers planted nine native trees—one Saptaparni, three Rain Trees (Gulabi Siris), three Banyan trees, and two Safed Babool. Four new planting pits were dug, four older contour trenches were expanded, and every sapling—both new and those planted over previous weekends—received a good watering before we left.

One small discovery quietly became the highlight of the morning.

Tucked away on the hillside stood a tiny young tree, growing entirely on its own. From its bright pink-red flush of new leaves, we believe it may be a Kusum (Schleichera oleosa). It has survived here without anyone noticing it for years. Next weekend, we'll return to give it a little extra support and see if our guess was right.

Perhaps every hill has a few stories waiting to be discovered.

The morning also brought new perspectives.

A few professionals with experience in civil engineering and water management joined us on the hill. Instead of focusing only on this monsoon's planting, the conversation shifted towards the summers that lie ahead.

Planting a tree is the easy part. Helping it survive May is the real challenge.

Together, we explored what it would take to build a reliable water system for the plantation area. Discussions ranged from where water could be stored, how much storage would be needed, and the best location for tanks, to how water could be pumped from the base of the hill, the electricity requirements, and the overall infrastructure needed. The goal is simple: ensure water is available whenever the trees need it, while reducing the physical effort of carrying heavy jerry cans uphill throughout the dry summer months.

Their real success will be measured years from now, when they are still standing through scorching summers, deepening their roots with every monsoon, and becoming part of the forest they were planted to restore.

That is why today's discussions focused as much on water systems and long-term survival as they did on planting itself.

As we packed up, the drizzle had eased, the trenches held a little more promise, and nine more native trees had found a home on Baner Hill. We gathered for hot chai and biscuits, kindly brought by Chaitanya-another familiar face from the hill's earlier restoration efforts.

Slowly, almost quietly, the landscape is beginning to change.