The green green grass of home November 7, 2009

Every Sunday before Raeann came along, we used to get our hands chocolatey-brown with earth, pruning and primping away on our greens. It was our weekly routine, this gardening. I liked to pretend we are farmers on the meadows, waiting for a new leaf to unfurl, a new bud to un-tighten, a new bloom to love. Latte would watch us from the inside, patiently waiting, occasionally squeezing his long snout and velvety nose between the gate grilles.

So now our baby’s here. We still garden, but never quite together. I would water, and he would carry the girl and go, “Baby, this is mint”. Or he would water, and I would carry the girl and go, “Baby, this colour is green.”

I guess, in more ways than one, we still garden together.

Can you imagine Missy Raeann carrying a little watering pot with a cute little spout, watering the greens? It’ll be one that she picks, and I’ll paint little flowers and her name on it.

One day, very soon, we’ll all garden together. Missy, huddy and me. And Latte still patiently watching.

The week in pixels September 8, 2008

September started stupendous. I’m letting every bit of the amber sunshine into the homeland. And eating every morsel of the chocolate rounds in the cookie jar.

My very handsome boy

Pollination in progress. Do not disturb.

Bread in the baking

Tales for Baby Raeann

Japanese sweets with Min

Happy Huddy after ramen

Cheery orange top from Prissi

Gotta love this month. Good week, all.

Grow ginger grow May 17, 2008

This got me leaping for joy on a golden Saturday. Our very first ginger flower bud! The huddy planted a stump of ginger some time ago, and while we’ve been having lots and lots of young ginger peeping out from the chocolatey earth, the flower remains elusive. As a non-lover of the ginger as a food and spice, I’ve had my reservations on that stinky little stump occupying a precious spot in my pot. But the huddy was hopeful, with a promise of pretty blooms one day. And yes, we’ve done it. The daily watering and coaxing has paid off, finally. I’m mighty proud, immensely pleased.

I’ve in my mind a scarlet flower in the drifts of green. I really can’t wait.

they rock February 16, 2008

i woke up to a beautiful sun-warmed corridor, a slice of sunlight beaming on the greens. but i found mealy bugs – so sticky, so white, so menacing. just verminous. so i chopped off the locks of the bamboo, squished and squashed the bugs, stopped latte from eating a leaf that has turned yellow. gardening has its downs, so i’ve come to know.

then the hos came by with a plate of homemade pumpkin cake – “we know you like it, so we were waiting for your door to open.” so breakfast was a big slice of the tangerine-coloured yummy generous with ikan billis, mushroom and red chilli, and a big glass of soya bean milk. the best breakfast.

just last night, armani’s family called me up to deliver a set of dog training notes, photocopied and put in a folder, just for us. we ended up spending another good two hours in their lovely home, learning recipes, watching latte groom armani, then walking the two dogs in the slow, breezy night.

there is something wonderfully kindred in this neighbourhood that makes living here just g-r-e-a-t.

sing a song of sunshine January 25, 2008

every morning, we open the door to green underhues, lusher by the day, though blooms are far and few this season. i’m seduced, beguiled. i like the way mrs ho talks about our plants – how they are happy in the pots, how they dance in the wind, how they make us breathe deep and clean. yesterday, she gave us some of her fertilizer for flowering plants and we sprayed them all over our hydrangea, japanese roses, shui mei, korean apple, lipstick and other greens with no names. they have not been flowering for a while, and it’s a little maddening. a new feed, a new bloom, hopefully.

i found out only yesterday the old ginger we popped into the flower boxes now have their own offspring, amidst all the overcrowding. and there’s a mini teeny weeny bittergourd somewhere on the vine. the purple potato’s taking root too with a deep purple shoot. we’re farmers with a harvest to boot!

someday, there’ll be a thick foliage out here in marmalade skies, and we’ll all be walking on air. dream big, girl.

 

duranta and mint

spot the gourd!

clean new ginger, red and yellow

green green grass of ginger

that love for country never goes away January 16, 2008

i often wish i had a real garden, with an impeccable lawn and leafy canopy so massive it casts dark shady shadows on the greens. there’ll be no fleas so latte can dance in the wind. we need just large clouds to stain the sky a bright white, and some spring blooms to colour the day. and a few potato, beetroot, rosemary and mint plants for that deep lovely country hue.

somewhere along the way, i’ve become so life-loving i leave the weeds alone to do its thing – live pretty. clovers have found their way around my hydrangea (still not blooming!), and i proudly show it to mrs ho who says she has never seen a real one before. they are petite little things with a story to tell. storms have come and gone and blown my bittergourd blooms away, but these hardy fellows are here to stay. they are probably growing better than anything in the flower box, and now a stray fern has come along for a piece of humble brown earth next to them.

our little green space outside is expanding, but i am greedy. i want not pots and boxes. i want plots. jumbo plots of green green grass with rainbow coloured nature taking root. so out there in the sun they grow straight, tall and proud. my papaya’s straining for precious golden rays along the corridor, and we often wonder how long it can last in that tiny pot (biggest pot we could find, but still teeny puny for mister papaya). it’s doing better than we had expected, and it looks like the tree in her kampung, my mum says. hang in there, mate.

these days, i’m too caught up with everything to breathe in the gardeny smell of home. and now i have a surge of longing for the morning. i’m yearning for some serendipity. for some slow watering and pruning. for some me-time to savour some books, scribble some words. to follow the smell of coffee. and fill some pitchers, fluff some pillows, and to do all that i need to be the country wife i want to be.

contentment is falling into sleep with a buck-toothed smile on my round face.

i can’t ask for a better start to the year January 5, 2008

it was a good week.

the huddy and i were accepted into the same part-time job (yippee!), and were somehow grouped into the same foundation course. three days gone by, three more to go. the best course i have ever had, i must say. a big eye-opener, with a philosophy i finally resonated with. and with fabulous colleagues who have achieved so much, and remained so humble, this is a place i wouldn’t even mind working full-time in. it feels amazing.

the coursemates asked how we could stand running a man-and-wife business. i laughed and said i love it. and the huddy couldn’t see what was so bad about it. after all, the two years in the same workplace was a more-than-pleasant professional affair. our partnership has brought out the best in us, and really, i can’t think of a better person to work with than my beloved husband.

homecoming from the course has been a grand affair. latte went a little berserk with joy. he couldn’t decide who to hug first, so he went shuttle-running from the huddy to me, from me to the huddy, from the huddy to his toys, from his toys to me. so achingly funny. it pains me to leave latte alone at home for nine hours. i am almost tempted to head back home during the long lunch break. i should probably propose a day care for dogs (ok, babies too) at the workplace. it’s better than daydreaming that i can shrink him and put him in my pocket.

to make the week greater, the greens at home are growing so gorgeously. the bittergourd plant has flowered! a petite yellow bloom that smells like sweet jasmine. and there are tiny tight buds all over the curly twining vine. just twinkling merrily in the light breeze.

this week was good. so very good.

woodleigh, your name is beautiful November 3, 2007

woodleigh park is a new-found gem of a wondrous green haven. just random trees with random names standing tall and strong and oh-so-there. some with leaves fallen off and naked branches reaching towards the evening sky, all picturesque and poetic and autumny and breathtaking. the green spreads out like a large lush carpet, with little signs of city invasion. nothing of those contrived landscaping with trees planted at equidistance and equal heights (think palm trees at woodlands mrt station – i always move the trees in my mind while waiting for the train so that they dont look like lego trees on primary school social studies projects). such rarity. very much like the serene melbourne park i once performed in, only much bigger. ok, maybe also lacking some free-ranging frisbees and colourful boomerangs and frolicking toddlers and unleashed galloping dogs. but still beautiful, exclamation mark.

i have big plans for an auyongs day out there. in the early morning to jog round the massive grounds (yes, i might just be willing to put on the running shoes for this place). after a picnic brunch, i want to play frisbee with latte, dare the huddy to hug a tree, race him to the big naked tree (then play cheat by saying he’s got the wrong tree, it’s the other naked tree that’s nearer to us. ha.), plant a saga seed, then nap on a hammock with latte on my tummy. in the evening, i want to watch the sun set in a blaze of orange, admire the evening runners from afar and get uber motivated to downsize. then i’ll clean the grass stains on my knees, his knees, latte’s body, and head home happily.

i dont know how i could have missed this beauty for the entirety of my existence. for now, it’s my homeland meadowy heavens.

the green moments October 19, 2007

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

these days, we are into throwing the remnants of our food into the garden. the coffee powder, tea leaves and yellowed vegetables go into the compost box. and seeds of all sorts into the pots big and small. it makes my nerves tingle to see the baby shoots peek out from beneath the brown earth. and the dappled morning sunlight playing off the greens. i would wind a lock of hair around my finger and wait for the korean apple shrub’s tight buds of pink to burst into bloom. the annoying thing is, i can stand all day in the garden anticipating petals in the sun, but nothing exciting ever happens before my eyes. then through some miracle of the night, the flowers come alive. it’s like missing your child’s first words, this maddening anticipation that goes to nought. but that’s probably what makes gardening so wondrous – the never-ending process of care and loving for the short-lived floral burst, for life form so delicate it humbles me.

the ginger shoots are like grass, nothing pretty, but ginger flowers are so worth the wait. the hydrangea plant is now lush and deep green, though no flowers reside. the awful bittergourd has given birth to glorious jagged leaves, so ivy-like, only prettier. so it’s all good. and i’m a jamie-oliver-at-home-wannabe who will go outside to snip off some basil and lemon-mint to cook lunch with later.

the indian neighbour working in nea informed the m… May 31, 2007

the indian neighbour working in nea informed the mister this morning that there are two dengue cases right across our block. not surprising, considering the mister has once caught a suspicious-looking mozzie flying up from the playground below and made a whistle-blowing call to nea on it and uncovered bamboo holes in the neighbourhood. it really takes just one inconsiderate being to cause pain to the others. mozzies and dengue be damned. she has kindly offered to give us a glob of brown thingy which in her own words, is “very smelly”. the niceties of the folks on the floor. all plant-loving neighbours, the floor is a lush green, a brilliant mosaic of pretty colours. and the well-behaved sun has done much good to our greens and blossoms. the papaya plant has grown to my chest level. the longan seedlings are strong enough for our second round of natural selection. the pandan, lovelier than i have ever seen it. the hydrangea with new shoots sprouting. and my dear petunias. dark violet and fushcia pink, dancing in the wind. regretfully, it’s only one more month of luxurious sunshine before it migrates to the kitchen, and the greens will go all limpy again.

the floral-scented morning was almost ruined by the awful auntie in amei.
mister:: there’s chicken shit on the eggshell. can you give me another egg?
awful auntie:: (scrapes the shit off with her stubby fingers, shows it to the mister) there, ok already.
mister:: eh no, can you give me another one?
awful auntie:: (picks another one) cracked one, can or not?
mister:: no, can you give me a good egg? thanks.
awful auntie:: (unwillingly gives a good egg) nah.

she stared at him on our way out and mumbled something to her colleague. nothing good i believe.

un-confetti experience.

it’s my turn to cook, but the nasty cough got my… May 6, 2007

it’s my turn to cook, but the nasty cough got my heart beating so fast i found it hard even to talk. so the dear one takes over. fish stew this arvo, cooked with love.

mrs ho dropped by with her little fushcia seed box, and we now have purple chilli, lotus and some mysterious seeds that she says will flower. the blossoms in the garden are attacked by mites and fungus after the high rain activity, and it’s about time we nip them. they’ll bloom again, and when they do, i’ll snip them off for the hos, with a ribbon and a card.

the sis-in-law got the hubby vanilla tea leaves, in a oh-so-gorgeous black and blue tin with vintage prints. it’s overindulgence in vanilla tea and chocolate fudge cake these days. sweet sweet joy.

and latte boy is now smelling sweet of orange and mango, a lovely smell i want to remember always.

i was all jacked up on frothy coffee white and … April 18, 2007

i was all jacked up on frothy coffee white and foccacia bread while watching a rerun of beauty and the geek, and i thought my energy was boundless this morning. but playing catch with latte left me more breathless than the sick boy. bad. he’s becoming firm friends with yoga, our pet toy rat from ikea. so now yoga’s stinking from latte’s nipping. despite the lungs being all infected, he’s full of puppy spunk and sunny exuberance. i am not overjoyed at the way he barks to initiate play, he scares us sometimes. the poor lad does not know that he is not allowed to overwork those lungs. so it’s come, sit, catch, and…come, sit, catch. full stop. the mister has got some cool comic layout for our boy’s pictures. the smart lad learns fast, and boy, we are proud of him. the fearless chap, abundance of verve, of love.

today is crisp and beautiful, and the stray plant that found its way to our flowerbox is bursting into more yellow daisy-like blooms. they dont last for more than a day, but new buds appear before the very next morning. life’s fleeting joys.

i can never rave enough about the hos. he greeted … December 11, 2006

i can never rave enough about the hos. he greeted us yesterday with a pot of korean apple plant, complete with a box of fertiliser. a nice lush light green colour, almost like a small bonzai. there are even teeny mini green apples which he says will turn red and ripe in due time. i’m thrilled. maybe the air outside will really be apple-scented. i dont even have to imagine it! hang on little apples, the missus will harvest you soon enough. please be sweet, so the hos will love it. they had their gorgeous fushcia petunia stolen one week after ours, and it had been with them for years. like gen says, i hope the petunia wakes up and twine around you and poo their pollen all around you. our lilac duranta and yellow something-lanta are planted deep into the heavy pots so that you cant snitch. try carrying the pots if you are hercules.

i still cant quite get over my loss, and it disg… November 29, 2006

i still cant quite get over my loss, and it disgusts me greatly to know there exists someone out there snooping and snitching in the lovely neighbourhood. the hos have kindly offered their petunia seeds again. but it’s never quite the same again, if you know what i mean. the mummy’s fine and smiley again, looking very much different from the face of weary reserve that i had pictured in my mind. so it’s all good now. it’s amazing how bad things happen together, and good things gather right after that. and the cycle continues and you learn to smile because that’s the only thing you want to do right then to dissipate any negative thoughts lurking and straying. oh, did i mention dinner and dance was smashing good? i sniffed my way to the ball, and it was well worth it. just jolly good fun and a replaced urge for those whimsical moments in my workdays. the dear one, i’m feeling that swell of pride for him. it’s nearing december. just about time for that christmas tree waiting to be donned with gold tassels and all things christmassy and ringing and pretty. i’ve bought a santa’s hat with gentle chimey bells for my tree. happy thoughts await.

someone stole our petunia. we grew them from seeds… November 24, 2006

someone stole our petunia. we grew them from seeds and i was ready to greet the sixth bloom this evening. i am so ready to bite now. beware, you thief.

our very first livingstone daisy. i would very mu… November 23, 2006

our very first livingstone daisy. i would very much like our garden to be bursting with bright primaries, but since we relish the thrilling joy of slow steady growth from seeds, the colours have to wait. sometimes it takes dirt on your hands to make that subtle connection with the living world. i count my leaves, i count my blooms. and this morning, i went scarlett with joy because two new petunia blooms greeted me. small, lilac, sweet. and the morning glory was indeed dancing in the breeze. happy plants they are in our care, so says mrs ho. nothing can steal my morning joy, my perfect moment.

he got me orange lilies with yellow statice as we … November 16, 2006

he got me orange lilies with yellow statice as we walk back from lunch. one lily is blooming right before me, and it’s thrilling. six elongated thick tangerine-coloured petals. i ache to think of the day they will say bye. it’s silly to attach feelings to blossoms, but how can i not. the pleasure of being. the love behind it. the sweet corn plants have officially taken their leave from this world, and while we wish very much we could harvest the fruits of our labour, they are too small to be eaten, and too rotten to be given. so it’s new seeds to be given new lives this weekend. old cucumber, bittergourd and honeydew seeds that we keep after we eat. the petunia from seeds of the pinkish one revealed its first shy bud this morning, and i’m secretly wishing it’s a deep purple one, so it’ll look gorgeous against my bluebells which have started to bloom once more. i dream of that little strip of garden that runs along the front, with the white picket fence and a small round table with a white wicket chair or two. fragrance of dew-kissed blossoms that makes me giddy with floral exuberance every morning. and a stalk of home-grown fushcia gerbera on the table that says love me. dreams can come true.

good neighbours are such a blessing. the hos gave … October 20, 2006

good neighbours are such a blessing. the hos gave us a big double-petaled xue mei plant last sunday. the white blossoms that started blooming on tuesday smell like sweet jasmine, and it’s a good smell to have in the morning when we sit on the bench putting on our work shoes. they invite us to their family year-end trip to pangkor (their 13th year!), and it fills me with such sheer joy to know that the family rituals i read so much about are happening right next door. like non-fiction on paperback, laced with anecdotes of tears and laughter. it’s laksa dinner with them next week, and i have this sizzling urge to bake my favourite cream cheese and cranberry muffins and present to them in the sweetest basket with a polka-dotted ribbon. only i dont have an oven now, and it’s so frustrating. when it’s time for harvesting, the hubby and i will walk right up to their door step with the corn in the cob. and i just have to jot down this minutiae about pumpkins. mrs ho says she’ll make us pumpkin cake when the pumpkins are up and out. these greenies are amazing, and even more so because i forgot i planted them. the excited hos say hey this should be a pumpkin plant and boy, arent they beautiful, and we say no, they cant be, we have no pumpkin seeds. but wait, yes, we cooked pumpkin dumplings some weeks back and i did plant the seeds with the marigold. so yes, pumpkins they are, and beautiful they are truly. the rain was drumming this morning, and the dew-and-rain-kissed leaves were shimmering. we will serenely await the orange babies. maybe just in time for next halloween. my childhood dream, by the way, was to marry a farmer with an oven. now, we have pumpkins, sweet corns, papayas and lemongrass. i would like to think i’m a farmer’s wife. please get me the oven, please.

forbidden city gave me the goospimples, something … September 18, 2006

forbidden city gave me the goospimples, something i only get when i play a majestic piece with the band or listen to josh. the awesome kit chan sang with such tremulous affection i had to cry. the two tears were perched on the edge of my lids when she held the little hands of tong zhi, with the emperor on his death bed. the death bed, was by the way, brilliantly put together by the ripped white-washed fabrics hanging on the city gates, utilized in every possible way throughout the epic musical. the sets and lighting dazzled me, the chereography was tight, with just that right amount of grand visual effects. and jo was simply beautiful in all her roles. we got a sneak preview of her blue dudou, on top of the twenty percent she got us. sexy. also, rowdy childish unappreciating classes of kiddos should be kept at bay, banned from theatres on the bay.

it was the dear one’s turn to cook last night. and the ingenious hubby of mine conjured up pumpkin and mushroom dumplings, and steamed tilapia with egg white and apple cider vinegar. tasty! he’s good, my man. dessert was strawberries with raw cane sugar. there’s another punnet in the fridge which i insisted should be reserved for consumption on another day just so we could prolong the glorious strawberry moment. and 8 femmes amused us for the night. the french, quirky is your name.

mental note to the auyongs. fertiliser is like supplements. to be taken only in moderation. sometimes, you just cant believe what the instructions on the pack tell you. the bittergourd and mint are gone. so gone. i teared like a little girl whose lollipop is taken away from her. there’s a scritch scritch scritch of pain i couldnt get rid of for a while. for the record, there were 26 leaves on the first bittergourd plant, 23 on the other. they were pretty little things. a gorgeous green, jagged unique edges, twisting around the bamboo like grape leaves on a vine. this morning, i looked at the empty flower box, and felt that old familiar scritch. it’s awful. on a more pleasant note, i think we’ll get to eat our very own sweet corn pretty soon.

i cant wait to go home to smell the flowers left … September 8, 2006

i cant wait to go home to smell the flowers left out in the good old sunshine. they bloomed two days ago, and are now in full lilac glory. i want to see the setting sun colour the baby breaths pink as cotton candy. this morning, i danced a little dance of congratulations to myself as i saw the blossoms shy towards the sun, and the sweet little corn reveal itself amidst the grassy leaves. the air is mint-scented, with a slight slight tinge of basil sweetness that could perhaps just be part of my imagination. our babies they are. so i have lilac petals to start the day, provence lunch as a pleasant distraction, sweet chats with the dear ones at work to pepper the fine slowness, and a visit to the sheltie and cavaliar king charles at the village to end this work week. it’s good, really. only i have this little headache from eating too much chips. shan’t whine shan’t cry. it’s a lovely friday, i say.