A Summer Rash

Most people believe that summer begins in March or April. But my body begs to disagree. The reappearance of my prickly heat is the harbinger of  hotter days and warmer nights.

Like Christmas, summer has not been my favorite time of the year. For one, school is out so I didn’t have friends to hang out with. I don’t have neighborhood buddies back then (but come to think of it, even now. He he he). Most of the summer days, I played with my nephews and nieces and we ended up fighting.
It didn’t help that I don’t have a job during summer. Plus, this stubborn rashes just keep on visiting me.

However, in a tete`-a-tete´ with one of my students, I realized that the stigma of a particular period in life can be removed by associating them with happy memories.

In my case, I have to affirm that not all my summers were dreary and spent on a tight budget or isolation. At some point, I created precious memories that could bring a smile to my face.

With this thought, heartwarming memories started to string out of my mind just like how Dumbledore magicked his memories into the pensieve or in a vial.

An unexpected back-packing vacation, helping Jotay practice his photography, meeting other artists, shopping for swimwear with Ising and posing in that particular swimwear, sending a birthday card to my crush while meeting a new crush, crossing the sea in a small boat, and going camping under the rain are just a few.

Why did I forget these memories?

Most of the time, I concerned myself with the sad events that took place afterwards. But that is not the point of the exercise. I should look back to these memories oftentimes and savor the light feeling these bring me. Once this happens, I can now bathe myself in the warmth of the summer.

Among these memories, which stood out?

Well, not the birthday card I sent to a boy, signed as Secret Admirer but the memory of lying on the sand, listening to the surf as the water kissed the beach, and looking at the star-laden velvety black sky. It was pure itch-free bliss.

Bouquet for Mama

One of Mama's favorite species of Vanda

This is my second post for this month. I must be oozing with creative juice. “Classes haven’t started yet, kigs. That’s why!” countered my alter ego.

A bud of hibiscus
waiting to bloom

I spent All Souls’ Day with my parents in Bohol. For the past 5 years, Bohol became a second home. My parents live there and it is where my Dad grew up. Since rural life can be pretty slow, I’d like to amuse myself sketching the flowers in Mama’s garden.

Mama loves gardening. One can find daisies, bougainvillea, hibiscus,  vanda, chrysanthemum, adelfa, cattleya, santan and those I couldn’t name. She also have San Francisco planted at one side of the house.

When Mama wasn’t yet burdened with gout, she used to have collections of different varieties of a particular plant. Back in Gensan, she used to have a collection of different species of vanda, San Francisco, santan, and bougainvillea.

A bougainvillea found
right outside the porch

At some point, I looked at her garden back when I was an elementary kid, more of a forest. You can’t blame me though when the bougainvillea grew up high and its branches seemed everywhere. Not to mention, a fortune plant stood at the middle. But the sweet smell of the gardenia and Chinese sampaguita can entice a little girl to stay and play.

I did mention that Mama has gout, not to mention osteoarthritis to contend with. Her gardening becomes limited. So to step up to do the job would be my Dad, her knight in rusty armor.

To give you an idea on how they interact with regards to the priceless plants of my Ma, just imagine an elderly couple: the woman nearing 70 while the man mid-70s. The woman directs the man to plant a hibiscus seedling near the path.  Later on, the man presented to the wife the weed he uprooted from the garden. To the wife's dismay, it was the hibiscus. They sure are way past the honeymoon stage. 

Take Home

Filipinos are very fond of taking home leftovers from parties. There are special reasons for these.

One, there are many leftovers during the party.

Two, the partygoers rain so much praises on the banquet that the host is so flattered that she has to pack some for these people.

Three, (and this particularly happens if your mother is my Ma), if your host is your mother, she would pack for an army so you won’t starve for days. But you would see her the following day.

Last Saturday,  I took home a different kind when I dropped by the celebratory party of the College of Arts and Sciences (CAS) that coincides with the birthday celebration of its dean, Dr. Ramon S. del Fierro.

After our lunch, my friend Jinky was quick enough to ask Sir Monch-kins the centerpiece on our table. Since I know my friend is not the type to fuss on flowers, I asked from her the centerpiece and took it home.

And here it is in watercolor. I hope I did justice to the ornament for these are beautiful flowers that mirror the kind heart and strong disposition of Dr. Ramon del Fierro himself.

This Shoe is Made for Flying

Eight hours from now I will be on my way home and I haven’t packed up yet. Important things got in the way. Foremost of these is this watercolor painting of my sneakers or sneaker since there is only one. :-p

I have started this piece last Sunday, inspired by rhyming lines I kept repeating on my head while feeding the laboratory mice. Rushing home, I grabbed my sneaker and placed it on my table. Feverishly, I made the outlines and decided to use my new water color paints.

At a young age, I knew what a watercolor is. My eldest brother, Kuya Bugoy (he is not a pain in the ass unless he started teasing me fat when I was a kid), used watercolor in his drawing. He paints portraits of men, women and lovers.  However, it was only recently (actually nine minutes ago) that I learned the difference between watercolor and acrylic paints. Watercolor paints used arabic gum as a binder while acrylic paints used ..well..acrylic resin (Organic chemists better hit the Merck. It might come out in Chem 120.)

It took me days to finish the piece. Duties in the salt mines took a chunk of my time, among other things. And yes, my sneaker is becoming a familiar sight on my study table. Plus, I had a hard time controlling the watercolor. It attracts a lot of water and once I made a mistake, the trick of using white paint to cover it didn’t work! That’s why I ended up with gray shoelaces. :)

My beginner’s charm may not have worked on this piece. But just like my acrylic paintings, I am glad to finish this. It is one hurdle conquered, new technique learned, and a soothing balm to a weary traveler.

Let me share with you the poem, Snickering Shoe, that started this all:

‘Twas a day of blue

A snickering shoe

I found in my stew.

Blubbering lots o’goo

This snickering shoe.

Suddenly it flew

Up and down the loo

Then I couldn’t chew

‘Failed to bid adieu

To the snick’ring shoe.