My Thoughts in Colours

I fancy buying lead and coloured pencils, as well as coloured chalks.  When I don't like my mind to work so hard, I just  use them and the results are my thought processes revealed in contoured, confused and coloured lines.

The Highest Compliment my Significant Other Paid Me

me in the natural state

me adulterated by make up

Most of the past girl friends of my significant other have long, straight and blonde hair. That's why I am always inclined to feel insecure. 

I know in my right senses that it is foolish to feel insecure on the basis of my outward appearance.  Being a Christian, I know it is written in the Bible that God looks at the heart. Furthermore,  I have known since I was a teen that God's word says that one's beauty does not come from the outward adornment such as braided hair and wearing of gold jewellery and fine clothes.  Instead, it should be the inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit.

Since I started working in the laboratory where I dealt with my experimental organisms more rather than people I had not focused much on the kind of clothes I wear and for that matter on fixing myself in general.  This had been so for really long years.

However since  my significant other  came to my life, I'd say I have always made an effort to fix myself.  Particularly, I started to wear skirts and dresses and court shoes, instead of wearing jeans and runners.  I am not in the habit of  putting  on make up, however, as shown in this photo, not particularly in the eye.  As I tend to have allergic reactions to some stuff, I am not in the habit of putting on eye make up because I always think that the chemical in the cosmetic may pose some hazard to my well-being in general (even if I use hypo or nonallergenic Clinique).


When my significant other saw this photo when a friend tagged this on my timeline on facebook, he made a lengthy commentary on our phone conversation which basically aired his displeasure in me wearing make up.  I was upset.  Why? because while most of the people who saw me like this said I look beautiful and even encouraged me to be like this all the time,  I could not remember the last time he paid me a compliment.

I  moaned deep inside because instead of hearing the compliment I expect, all I got was some kind of lengthy and stressful remarks.

As I slept after that stressful phone conversation, however, I remember the compliment he paid me--which any other woman would love to hear I believe--he had told me not just once ,but oftentimes that I am ten thousand times better than any of the past women or even those he'll ever meet.

Yes, I agree with him 110%. I know I can confidently say that I am absolutely faithful to him.  I live a quiet life doing my house and garden chores, study and write in between these.

Dwelling on this, I went to bed and slept soundly.

I See my Father in Me

My late father had a strong bond with soil from time immemorial. For him, soil is more than dirt. For him,  it is one of the essentials to life, the surface of Mother Earth where plants grow and where every living thing gets food for survival. 

Since I was a kid, I had seen my father worked with soil to grow vegetables and fruit trees that ended on our  food table.  The effort he put in achieving this was not easy.  As the soil in our backyard was poor, I had seen him worked hard and diligently towards its improvement.  To make vegetable patch, my father regularly added organic matter to this  area in our backyard by shredding leaves, vegetable refuse and also chicken manure (ie as he also raised chicken). Hence  the soil in our backyard over time  turned from a sandy soil to loamy soil that was perfect for gardening.

Thus, even if I had lived in the city of Manila where evergreens or other plants were technically scare, I was surrounded with trees and more trees and also vegetable greens, reds and yellows which made me feel I was out in the country.  In our backyard were narra (Pterocarpus indicus), fire , acacia and agoho (Casuarina equisitifolia)  trees.  We also had guava, santol (Sandoricum koetjape), caimito (Chrysophyllum cainito), chico (Achras zapota) and aratelis fruit trees.  We also grew batao, snake beans, sweet potato, yam and tomatoes.

When I had my own house built in the Metromanila, my surrounding changed in respect to the green areas around me, basically because of scarcity of earth as my brother and I had two separate houses built in only one block of land.  As I had a career in entomological research then, I did not have, nor did my brother have the opportunity to bond with the soil as our father did.  

As my father however, was always there for us, we still were able to set our eyes to rest them on green plants which he planted in our property.  In front of our property were coconut trees.  Inside our small yard were malunggay, guava and balimbing (star fruit) trees

When I migrated in Australia and bought a house with a considerably huge land area in respect to the number of people in it,  I also developed a bonding with the soil, but only at a later stage.  The previous owners apparently did not have the passion for vegetable gardening or fruit growing.  The soil was heavy clay.  My father was still around then so in the early stage of my living in it, it was my father who worked towards improving the soil and planting vegetables and fruit trees..

I could have continued what my father started in my block of land without any difficulty had the tradespeople who did my house and driveway did not use my garden soil in mixing the concrete materials.

 

As my father went to be with the Lord after living a full and meaningful 83 years, I was left alone to work in my yard.   Each day as I put in my best efforts towards gardening I could not help but see my father in me as I regularly add dry leaves, vegetable refuse and other organic matter to make my clay soil loamy and also as I plant vegetables in season, flowering plants or fruit trees year after year,  

It hailed....

Hail stones from a nearby suburb where a friend lives

My front yard after the hail storm

Since I had lived in Australia, I couldn’t remember the number of times Sydney had hail-, sand- ,dust-, and windstorm and also flooding rains.  It did not really bothered me .  I was very busy establishing a career then. Also  I had lived then in rented apartment and rented house  built with strong materials that I hardly would know if it was storming or not once the windows and doors were closed. In other words, these dwelling places were sort of sound proof where I would not even hear even a pin drop on the floor.

However, it had been a different story after I bought  a weather board house to live in it.  It was like waking up from a dream to face the reality that storms loom around the corner and without any warning, they just comes when you least expect it.

As I am more of a romanticist, I always see something beautiful not only in trivial and simple things, but also amid a storm.

That's why as soon as the first drop of rain falls, for example, I often rush to the extension of my house where the roof was made of Stratco over which the sound of the rain was like music in my ear. 

Yes, I have always loved rain since  I was a kid.  Somehow,  I am inclined to think that there is a mysterious romance between the sky and the clouds expressed in the  melodious and harmonious melody as the raindrops falls from heaven to water the earth and cause all flowers to bloom, the trees to flourish and every living thing God created to rejoice.

For over two decades that I had lived in Australia, the winter, spring, summer and autumn rains have always brought feelings of joy in my heart and gratitude to God because I had never found myself walking on flood waters.

When I experienced, however, towards the late months of 2011, flooding for four times in my house extension which kept me bucketing out the flood waters till 2 am and  then saw on TV in the early morning news the damage and havoc brought about by these storms,  I  always become frightened whenever rain begins to fall and thunder roars.  I told to myself 'Not again, Lord!  I no longer live in Manila where the slightest rain floods the streets. I now live in this part of Sydney where there had been no reported case of flooding.

No, never until I had this house extension built, the reason being as a result of  the extensive concreting I did in my backyard.  The tradie asked me “Where would you like the water go?”

As bucketing out water from the extension is not in my agenda, as soon as I heard the rain falls or the thunder roars during  a storm forecast, I pray to God as I pray every single day and night to save my Mum and I from flooding.

8 November 2012, it rained.  I went to the extension to listen to it--sadly not to listen to its music but to be aware how big the rains would be.  The drops were not small, but big.  Oh my! I was sure it was hailing.  Funny, however, when I looked through the glass door, I could not see any hail in my courtyard.  I continuously listened to the frightening sound of the hail as they hit my Stratco roof.  I prayed without ceasing to God not to allow the roof to cave in just like it did in one house I saw on TV after a weird storm.

After awhile, the hailing stopped.  I looked out of the window to see how my front yard was.  I saw no hail except the purple blooms in my lawn---much brighter and fresher. WoW!  Thank you Lord!

When I face booked that day I saw a post of a friend who lived just nearby a picture of her yard filled with big hailstones.  Oh my!   Once more, I thank God for His deliverance.

N.B.  If you'd ask me if I still love rain, the answer is a triple YESes.