"tabatabachingching"

good break

when my husband said we're going down south towards kangaroo valley, i didn't really expect much. we've been there before and though i did enjoy the trip that time, we went to the beach instead of hiking up to see some falls. fitzroy falls in fact. nevertheless, it was a welcome break from overseeing the city from our veranda.

we drove for almost three hours to the site (during which i tortured my husband almost the whole time by screaming that i had to have a kidney break). we went from the great big highways to little country towns, through roads barred on both sides by towering trees, or farm houses littered by cows and horses, and finally to roads with hand-written names (but still paved, surprisingly).

the falls were magnificent. the view was overwhelming. the air was fresh and cool, pure, uncontaminated oxygen. breathtaking. we had our lunch and celebrated a colleague's birthday. we laid beside a nearby lake and enjoyed the fresh air while we can.

it was worth the long drive.

footprints in the sand

The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand, is when I carried you.

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footprints in the sand by Mary Stevenson

rain, rain, go away...

you would think spring is all clear skies, sunny but not too much, sweet smell of blooming flowers, fresh grasses and light green leaves. well, not today. nor for the whole long weekend.

yesterday and today are spelled out as R.A.I.N. can't go to the beach for spring picnic or bike riding. it's even depressing to go out and do some grocery shopping.

i've always thought rain has a funereal excrescence. it is terribly oppressive, forcing people to go about their business with such melancholy demeanor. yup, little children can't go out and play.

oh well, the land needs it though. and badly.

so i just look at baby pat and see how busy she was opening her birthday presents.

In search of rain

After four years of drought in the little village, the parish priest gathered everybody to make a pilgrimage to the mountain; there they would join in communal prayer to ask for rain.

In the middle of the group the priest noticed a boy all wrapped up in warm clothes and covered by a raincoat.

"Are you crazy?" he asked. "It hasn’t rained in this region for five years and you’ll die of the heat climbing the mountain!"

"I’ve got a cold, father. If we are going to pray to God for rain, can you imagine the climb back down? The downpour is going to be so heavy that it’s better to be prepared."

At that very moment a loud roar was heard in the sky and the first drops began to fall. The faith of a boy was enough to work a miracle that thousands of men were praying for.

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article is from paulo coelho's warrior of the light

photo is from simple things

good morning, sunday!

i've always liked sunday mornings.

i remember waking up lazily to sunday radios tuned to stations playing abba. then we'd have (very) garlicky fried rice topped with runny eggs and dried fish for breakfast. very yummy indeed. then off we'd go with the neighbourhood kids to play chinese garter or piko (hopscotch) or agawan-base (capture the base) until our mother shouts out to say that lunch is ready.

a couple of decades past and i still love these sunday mornings. i would wake up at 4 in the morning and sit out in the veranda holding my steaming hot chocolate (with a teaspoon of coffee) just to watch the world start to stir and be alive. THAT few hours of standstill is what i call PEACE. stripped of the noises of everyday life, bared of the daytime glare of the sun or the razzle-dazzle lights at night. not even the birds are awake yet.

PEACE. its just me, my coffee, the chilling wind and the sky.

yes, for a few hours, i do not have to think of anything at all.

happy birthday baby pat!!!

it's the little things that you miss.