Our Ibus are worried. And so am I.

It’s supposed to be the dry season right now.

The time when the sun stays out, the cotton starts to bloom, and the days feel reliable. But for the last two weeks, it's been storm after storm. Sudden, violent rain. Winds that tear through the trees. In our villages, crops are drowning. And here in Jakarta, it feels more like January than June.

While the cool weather might feel nice in the city, it’s bad news in the fields.

For farmers, weather is everything. And right now, nothing is behaving like it should. The women we work with are scared. Scared the harvest will fail. Scared the food won’t grow. Scared that after months of hard work, one storm could wash it all away.

That’s not just frustrating. It’s devastating. Especially for those growing just one crop—if it dies, everything’s gone. No second chance.

This is why we’ve been working with our Ibus to bring back tumpang sari, a traditional way of farming where different crops grow together. Think of it like farming with a backup plan. If one plant fails, others survive. It’s more work, but it spreads the risk. It's how our ancestors farmed before everything got industrialized.

Even with tumpang sari, though, these storms are pushing the limits. We’re seeing firsthand how climate change isn’t some distant threat. It’s here. It’s now. And it’s hitting the most vulnerable the hardest.

The Ibus didn’t cause this crisis. But they’re the ones paying the price.

And honestly? Some days it feels overwhelming. But giving up isn’t an option—not for them, and not for us. So we keep going. We adapt. We plant differently. We build soil health. We grow crops that protect each other. And we keep showing up, storm after storm.

If you’ve ever felt helpless hearing about the climate crisis—this is where your choices matter.

Every time you choose clothes that are grown and made differently,
Every time you support a system that puts people and planet first,
You’re helping something bloom.

This isn’t charity. It’s justice. And it’s not about saving the world. It’s about growing one worth inheriting.

And if you’re ready to wear that hope, you can start here.

Reporting live from the puddles with my muddy wet boots and stubborn hope,
D