tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27518273682069733922024-03-13T10:22:51.893-07:00sally's musingsthe dawn's sky of luminous blue
greets the coming of a beautiful day...
but who's stopping to watch it turn
deeper blue?
just musing...sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-49026828230828194072014-10-05T15:33:00.002-07:002014-10-05T15:33:37.646-07:00Batuan, Bohol? Where is that?<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">i remember going home to my town, batuan, a year ago. i was commuting. when the bus passed by the municipal hall, the market place, the houses, i noticed that nothing much has changed. it was still the town it was when i left the place. nothing much to remember it with except one</span></span>: <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">the shiphaus. as the name suggests, it is a house designed like a ship... which is funny and incongruous because batuan is located at the central part of bohol... an idiosyncrasy of the owner who's in love with the ocean.. or ship or both. his efforts paid-off though. many locals and foreigners visit the place and has become a venue for meetings and wedding receptions. so thanks, shiphaus, you just become the landmark of this town.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">other than that, batuan is snoring. i even have a song for this sleepy town:</span></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">o, sleepy town of bah-two-one, </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
How still we see thee lie<br />
Above thy deep and dreamless state</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While other stars go by</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in thy dark streets glooms<br />No everlasting light<br />
The sighs and fears of all the years <br />
Are there in thee tonight </span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">i know i'm being sarcastic but to live in a place like this, one is either sarcastic or apathetic. As i see it, the latter type of <i>batuananons</i> constitute a huge percentage of its residents. Sounds sad and hopeless, doesn't it? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But who's to blame? Everybody! Voters who chose the wrong guys upstairs; elected officials who do nothing but sit and stare; buyers who never question overpricing and sellers who have no sympathy for the consumers ever. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">and nobody here (well, almost) knows what a chemtrail is! they should, you know. afterall, we do have chemtrails up in the sky almost everyday. i have seen airplanes leaving chemtrails a few times.. that's when they start earlier than their schedule. often, i see these ludicrous looking "clouds" early in the morning so they probably spray their poison at night. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">and yet, i have nothing but respect for some of my fellow batuananons who struggle everyday to feed their families, provide for their children's education and go to sleep at night without foreboding. they wake up early in the morning, make and eat breafast, feed their carabaos, cows, chicken, pigs, dogs,cats and then go to work as hired help or to their farms... a daily routine which i find boring and yet fascinating. boring in the sense that they've been doing the same thing all their life; and fascinating, because of their remarkable resilience and endurance. this might not be the case for all the <i>batuananons, </i>but for the most part, it is. so, to these boring and fascinating group of <i>batuananons, </i>you have my greatest respect and admiration! may the winds of good harvest blow towards your direction!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-1786277756097245472014-04-08T04:08:00.001-07:002014-04-08T04:08:58.851-07:00"so God made a farmer."<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/AMpZ0TGjbWE" width="480"></iframe>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-25133085182098155692014-03-25T08:44:00.000-07:002014-03-25T08:44:00.253-07:00MY VERY FIRST HYDROPONICALLY GROWN VEGGIES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NZ6QCRNwdvA/UzAs7TXsHuI/AAAAAAAAAjI/EDQclmRy0o0/s1600/Photo5152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NZ6QCRNwdvA/UzAs7TXsHuI/AAAAAAAAAjI/EDQclmRy0o0/s1600/Photo5152.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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This is just one seedling of the leafy vegetables (pechay) that I've tried growing hydroponically in my garden using the SNAP solution that Dr. Primitivo Santos of UPLB (University of the Philippines-Los Banos in Laguna) formulated. I used a soil-less medium to hold the seedlings inside 8 oz. styro cups, filling them just about 1/3, enough to hold the seedlings upright.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--S6ZB0WVzkI/UzAwse1tcSI/AAAAAAAAAjU/jSOq5wUFHmY/s1600/snap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--S6ZB0WVzkI/UzAwse1tcSI/AAAAAAAAAjU/jSOq5wUFHmY/s1600/snap.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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These are the SNAP (A & B) solutions that I used. For every 10 liters of water, first I poured 25 ml of SNAP A into the water and stirred the mixture. Next, I poured the other 25 ml of SNAP B, again stirring to mix it well with the water.<br />
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I use a 3/4 inch thick styrofoam sheet to cover the container that holds the SNAP mixture and at the same, holds the cups. Holes were made by using a tin can (of evaporated milk, big) that I cut in the middle using a heavy duty scissors. Once cut, the edge will be sharp enough to cut through the sheet by putting a little pressure on it and then slowly turning it around, making sure it stays in place for a clean cut.</div>
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Three weeks after, my pechay (above) and mustard greens (below) were growing so fast. I checked the nutrient solution by slowly (!) lifting the cover. More than half of the solution was gone. By this time, the white roots covered the floor of the plastic container that lifting a plant individually would surely damage the roots. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway: never lift the styrocups! LOL!</div>
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Growing veggies hydroponically, in some ways, is just like growing them in the traditional way. The plants still need sunlight. So where to locate them is an important factor to consider. And, unless you have a screened housing, you still have to visit them early in the morning for possible pest infestation. </div>
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Other than that, everything else is a breeze. No watering, no weeding, and almost always, no spraying (pesticide or foliar fertilizer) </div>
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One more thing to consider: rain water will dilute the nutrient solution and we don't want that.And by the way, SNAP is an acronym for Simple Nutrient Addition Program that Dr. Primitivo Jose Santos coined for the hydroponic system that doesn't need the use of electricity.</div>
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P.S.</div>
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I can't upload a picture of the veggies in their 4th week. Too excited, I forgot to take the picture before I harvested them!</div>
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sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-32571494754696052682014-03-24T05:54:00.000-07:002014-03-24T05:54:25.128-07:00How I pulverize hard clumps of soil in my garden <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I usually get hard clumps of soil when</span> digging a patch in my garden that is often water-logged during rainy season. I know that it's a bad idea to work on the soil when it's still wet but waiting for it to dry up is another story. I just cannot wait that long, so, using my spading fork, I dig in. So how do I pulverize the hard clumps? Here's how it's done:<br />
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<ol>
<li>After I'm through with my digging, I'll wait for the hard clumps of soil to dry up. Usually, it takes three to five days. When totally dry, the clumps this time become rock hard. </li>
<li>Late in the afternoon, I'll soak the rock hard clumps using a garden hose to field capacity. I make sure that they become really wet all the way down. This will soften the hard clumps. </li>
<li>Next day, preferably in the morning, I'll soak the clumps again and this time, as the water hits the clumps, I watch them break up. Works everytime.</li>
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<br />sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-37656255457136804772014-02-15T06:09:00.000-08:002014-02-15T06:40:19.857-08:00The joy of gardening<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I decided to quit my daytime job one month and 16 days ago, I already knew what next I was going to do</span></span>, and that is gardening. Of course I was aware that my stamina isn't how it was years ago but I was so sure of it. I love everything about gardening... yes, even the hardest part of it like cleaning, weeding and making of plots. In fact, I draw my strength from it 'cause after the day is done, I look at the finished task and feel satisfied of what I have just accomplished. Then after I gather all the gardening tools and take them inside the nipa hut, I'll take one last look at my garden, which by this time, will catch the color of sunset. <br />
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I can't really explain this joy I feel ... must have something to do with my bloodline or perhaps with my fascination for plants, watching them sprout, grow first true leaves and finally set fruits... And what could be more joyful than the first taste of the harvest? Of course, there are things more joyful than this , but there is nothing quite like it.<br />
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photo taken from: <a href="http://blog.lib.umn.edu/efans/master-gardener/">http://blog.lib.umn.edu/efans/master-gardener/</a><br />
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sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-28921351519308212502014-01-28T04:54:00.000-08:002014-01-28T04:54:01.434-08:00Bohol tarsiers in captivity<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
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<b><u>TARSIER</u></b> <i>genus</i>: Tarsius; <i>phylum</i>: Chordata; <i>order</i>: Primates; <i>species</i>: T. syrichta <br />
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Above mentioned facts, I got from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philippine_Tarsier">Wikipedia</a>. Illustration below, mine.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/ScgwMMQu9aI/AAAAAAAAAJE/Kt2UhRv8AHI/s1600/tarsier.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/ScgwMMQu9aI/AAAAAAAAAJE/Kt2UhRv8AHI/s320/tarsier.png" width="230" /></a></div>
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My interest in tarsiers is not really, by any means, scientific and if
someone asks what genus do tarsiers belong, I would have no idea. I only
know that these cute and shy animals are a great tourist attraction and
because of that, I think their existence is nearing end. Here's why:<br />
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A scenario:<br />
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A tourist bus with 10 to 15 Koreans take the Tagbilaran - Baclayon -
Loboc - Carmen - Danao route. I mentioned these towns as they are where
the bus drivers usually make stops. Baclayon is where you will see the
oldest church of the Phillipines. Loboc is where the floating
restaurants are. Carmen, the Chocolate Hills and Danao, the ziplines,
the plunge, caves, wall and root climbing. You might ask why I am
telling you this. What does the <i>Maumag</i> (local name of tarsier) got to do with it? Well, each of these stops have tarsiers IN CAGES.<br />
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Tourists are sightseeing during the day and tarsiers which are
nocturnal, sleep at daytime. So? Well, tourists don't want to see
tarsiers sleeping behind the leaves. Afterall, they are paying for
it...although you'll see signs on a box that says Donation for the
upkeep of those hapless tarsiers, still they are indeed paying. It's
been told that a donation box could easily earn ten thousand pesos a day
during peak season. That's more than the monthly salary of a rank and
file employee. So what happens is that, to make the tourist happy and
not to feel short-changed, the operator wakes them up. The tarsiers have
get out from their sleeping quarters (behind the leaves) so tourists
can marvel on their cuteness and take photos. Some would poke them with
long sticks or shake the branches hard if they refuse to come out from
their hiding places.<br />
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Sure, they are allowed to get back to sleep after the tourists are gone
but not for long. The last time I was in one of those places, there was
a long queue of tourist buses so I doubt it if those hapless tarsiers
did get any sleep at all.<br />
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Being nocturnals, this predicament these tarsiers are in, greatly
disorients them and without sleep, they will surely get sick and
eventually die. And if they do, the operators buy another set. Set?
Yes, set. Tarsiers don't live long if caged alone. So with this trend
of buying tarsiers>burying dead tarsiers >buying a set again (I am
sure of this) >burying and so on, there's no doubt about it:
extinction is inevitable. <br />
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There's a man named Carlito "Lito" Pizarras of <a href="http://www.tarsierfoundation.org/the-sanctuary">Philippine Tarsier Foundation</a>, aka, the <a href="http://www.tarsierfoundation.org/the-tarsier-man"><i>Tarsier Man</i></a> who is very active in taking care of these hapless creatures. He had been ridiculed as a <a href="http://www.tarsierfoundation.org/a-fool-for-tarsier">fool for tarsier</a> but now has become a national figure. Nobody knows about tarsiers more than <a href="http://www.tarsierfoundation.org/the-tarsier-man">Lito. </a><br />
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I met Lito 2 years ago at the foundation. Not that he knows me back but
to someone who loves tarsiers knows a thing or two about him. A
soft-spoken man. I saw him whisper softly to one of his tarsiers and
this tarsier looked at him and snuggled at his neck. It was a very
touching moment. No wonder his wards (tarsiers) love him so. But what
can a single dedicated man do to stop this massive abuse on tarsiers?<br />
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In desparation, I once uttered this question after a discussion about
the plight of the tarsiers. Maybe we can clone him, one of my friends
jokingly answered.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tarsier-Several-Islands-Southeast-Photographic/dp/B0033EPFB4?ie=UTF8&tag=sallysmusings-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank"><img alt="Tarsier Found on Several Islands in Southeast Asia Eating a Gecko Artists Photographic Poster Print by Larry Burrows, 30x40" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B0033EPFB4&tag=sallysmusings-20" /></a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tarsiers-Past-Present-Future-ebook/dp/B000SPDK0E?ie=UTF8&tag=sallysmusings-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank"><img alt="Tarsiers: Past, Present, and Future" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B000SPDK0E&tag=sallysmusings-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=sallysmusings-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B000SPDK0E" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tarsiers-Nocturnal-Animals-Kristin-Petrie/dp/1604537396?ie=UTF8&tag=sallysmusings-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank"><img alt="Tarsiers (Nocturnal Animals)" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=1604537396&tag=sallysmusings-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=sallysmusings-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=1604537396" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" /><br />
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sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-56222450216515502442014-01-23T19:27:00.001-08:002014-01-23T19:27:55.544-08:00Growing old gracefully<a href="http://on-msn.com/1dOfpMU">Growing old gracefully</a>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-45037092728426996362014-01-07T22:13:00.000-08:002014-01-07T22:18:06.937-08:00What not to do when planting broccoli<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8JD5opc_eVs/UszrwJYVHmI/AAAAAAAAAgM/csyV5Y-i3lw/s1600/broccoli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8JD5opc_eVs/UszrwJYVHmI/AAAAAAAAAgM/csyV5Y-i3lw/s1600/broccoli.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><br />Just this morning, I read a book about gardening. The centennial edition of <i>Yate's Garden</i> <i>Guide, </i>although very informative, some of its guidelines just won't work (for me) being an Australian book made for Australian climate. And I'm here in Bohol, Philippines. Still, I find myself reading parts and pages and looking at photos of broccoli, big ripe tomatoes, crisp-looking lettuce and of beautiful flower and herb gardens. And I do it again and again for inspiration that at times I forget that I'm here in the tropics. One time, I asked a friend working in Canada to send me (as a gift!) a pack of broccoli seeds. She sent me two! At the back of the packets, it says early dwarf variety, big and compact bright green heads. I sowed one packet. They sprouted but just a few made it. But there was enough for the 18- meter plot. <br /><br />They grew just like the previous broccoli I had, only taller and slimmer. So much for a dwarf variety! And instead of forming into heads, the flowerets spread out. For a moment, I was wondering what went wrong and whether or not it tastes different. Not really different as I found out later. I mean, you'd know what you're eating is broccoli.<br /><br />So I didn’t ask my friend for broccoli seeds again or any other seed for that matter. And the other packet of Canadian broccoli? I didn't throw it either. The picture on it looks too gorgeous. I just let it peacefully expire inside a plastic box. At least I learned a very important lesson: never assume that the big difference in climate, soil and temperature between here and places like Canada won't matter because it does. And it could cost you a planting season.<br /><br /> <br /><br /> </span>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-57366393570184195862013-09-15T03:56:00.000-07:002013-09-15T05:21:31.269-07:00boracay<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1izKjtckvMc/UjWSIcxF8VI/AAAAAAAAAdo/-1ZTgFhdZHk/s1600/Boracay_White_Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1izKjtckvMc/UjWSIcxF8VI/AAAAAAAAAdo/-1ZTgFhdZHk/s400/Boracay_White_Beach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: yellow; color: blue; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: yellow; color: blue; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">b</span><span style="background-color: blue; color: yellow; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">o</span><span style="background-color: red; color: cyan; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">r</span><span style="background-color: lime; color: #073763; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">a</span><span style="background-color: cyan; color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">c</span><span style="background-color: yellow; color: purple; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">a</span><span style="background-color: #e69138; color: cyan; font-size: x-large; text-align: start;">y</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">e</span>very - well, almost every fun loving beach bum who loves to party have heard of this beautiful island boracay. local tourists flock to this island during summer. foreign tourists too. celebrities come here to unwind, some come incognito and others come to be seen and recognized. and they all come to enjoy the clear blue sea, the long stretch of fine white sand, the hundreds of coconut trees, the water sports, the glorious sunrises, the beautiful sunsets, the nightlife - both tranquil and wild.</i></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: yellow; color: blue; font-size: x-large;">b</span><span style="background-color: blue; color: yellow; font-size: x-large;">o</span><span style="background-color: red; color: cyan; font-size: x-large;">r</span><span style="background-color: lime; color: #073763; font-size: x-large;">a</span><span style="background-color: cyan; color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">c</span><span style="background-color: yellow; color: purple; font-size: x-large;">a</span><span style="background-color: #e69138; color: cyan; font-size: x-large;">y</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a phographer's dream island</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
photo taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Boracay_White_Beach.jpg</div>
sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com1boracay, aklan, philippines-62.267922629417583 -147.48046875-66.042860129417591 -157.80761725 -58.492985129417583 -137.15332025tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-27243781031228847142013-02-07T00:34:00.001-08:002013-02-07T00:40:25.919-08:00<a href="http://haikulanes.blogspot.com/2013/02/written-on-beach-reminder-of-visit-soon.html?spref=bl">haiku lanes: <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
written on the beach </a><br />
<a href="http://haikulanes.blogspot.com/2013/02/written-on-beach-reminder-of-visit-soon.html?spref=bl">reminder of a visit</a><br />
<a href="http://haikulanes.blogspot.com/2013/02/written-on-beach-reminder-of-visit-soon.html?spref=bl">soon...</a>:<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> written on the beach</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> reminder of a visit</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> soon washed away.</span>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-43707134885350583892012-11-30T15:53:00.001-08:002012-11-30T16:02:54.337-08:00B-1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xHKxksPUevI/ULcINrrKIVI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/EdDcXZB9lLw/s1600/b-01+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xHKxksPUevI/ULcINrrKIVI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/EdDcXZB9lLw/s320/b-01+dog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
To name a dog B-1 may sound categorical and impersonal,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but he likes that name and responds to it.. even to the softest whisper of a call.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He'll look at you with those bluish eyes -questioning or pleading. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Either way, it never fails to get your attention and affection -those eyes that hid behind hairy tangles of white and lightest brown, the color of caramel that so suits him.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
His dark brown drooping ears would raise up as he anxiously wait for his food.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And sure enough, he gets it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But a few days ago, we lost B-1. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How? That's a question we cannot give an answer to.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Perhaps B-1 managed to get out of the gate unnoticed and somebody just picked him up.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I just hope that whoever took him takes good care of our beloved pet dog.</div>
sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-10732437728565815512012-11-07T07:36:00.001-08:002012-11-07T07:36:18.053-08:00green thumb
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">One
afternoon a few months ago, I was harvesting okra from my garden. My
two elder sisters were there at that time and I suggested that
stir-fried veggies with okra sounds delicious. I gave a handful to
Nang Lita to take home. She took it and was about to pass it to Tita
(my other sister) so she could put it in the basket when they saw a
brown hairy worm inching along on one of them (okra) and they
screamed! Both of them. And guess what happened to the okras. Well,
you guessed it right. They flew! and I was laughing so hard, my
tummy hurt. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">I
wasn't born unafraid of those crawly things. I mean, who loves them?
But as one becomes a green thumb, worms aren't scary anymore. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">Let's
talk about true-blue green thumbs. My paternal grandfather was a
great farmer. My father loved his garden so much, he went there
after office hours, whenever possible. My uncle, a more seasoned
farmer, never ran out of root crops and corn and rice. I remember
having hearty snack of sweet potatoes and thick hot chocolate every
afternoon on their kitchen table - well, almost. Sometimes, there's
boiled or fried ripe bananas. You may say, farming or gardening runs
in the family, which is true in my uncle's. But I don't see anyone
else following my father's passion in his. There's only me and I
knew it then when one morning many years ago, my auntie was
harvesting peanuts and I offered to help, not really because I was a
good hardworking girl who loves to lend a hand but mainly because the
thrill of pulling up the plants and counting as each gorgeous peanut
is plucked from the roots, was so exciting! When we finished
harvesting, my aunt gave me a bucketful. Almost immediately, I run
home and cooked my peanuts (boiled unshelled and salted). The next
day, I fried the beans. And the next and next. I still had two
cups of raw peanuts left and I decided to sow them. I asked my
father if I could have a plot for my peanuts in his garden. Of
course, he said yes. After a couple of months, their yellow tiny
flowers dotted the lower portion of the plants. Then it was time to
harvest. I was thrilled to see peanuts dangling from the roots as I
pulled each plant up. The biggest and most vigorous had 62! And to
think I only sowed two beans per hill, my calculating mind went to
work: 62 peanuts / 2 = 31 peanuts! Imagine, each peanut is
multiplied 31 times! I showed Papa my calculation and he said,
that's wrong. It couldn't be wrong! I insisted. No, he said. Look,
each of this peanut has two beans inside, so 1 bean is 1/2 of 1
peanut. So, your calculation should be: 1/2 peanut x 2 beans = 1
peanut and 1 peanut x 62 equals? Sixty-two! I answered. I must
have looked so ridiculously animated that he laughed. Although
proven wrong, it even excited me more. And I said to Papa, that's so
much more than what you'll earn from bank deposit. He just smiled at
me. Of course, a kid aged 10 didn't know about cost of labor and
materials. What she just saw was the gross and the bliss of tasting
the fruit of her labor. That was then the start of my love affair
with gardening.</span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-83760223535818479532012-09-14T08:09:00.001-07:002012-09-14T08:09:10.413-07:00
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<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>There seems to be no
limit to a gardener's capacity</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>to forget where they've
left something</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>-Des Kennedy, THIS
RAMBLING AFFAIR</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>1998, Sasquatch Books,
Seattle</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">The
sun appeared above the wooded hill early and bright, with a promise
of a beautiful day ahead which it didn't keep. I'd happily welcome
yet another sunny day because it would mean uninterrupted work in
the garden, but the weather turned nasty in the early afternoon. As
the gray clouds turned dark, I hastily gathered all the garden tools
except one: the pitchfork. I was sure I left it under a tree - but
which tree? I ran from tree to tree with no luck. No pitchfork. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">The
rain started with no introduction. No drizzle...just pure downpour
of steady and heavy raindrops. I hurried to the nipa nut and almost
fell down. My foot tripped on something hard and steely. And there,
on the floor, was my pitchfork. Soaking wet, and angry, I kicked
hard at it, and missed, I swear I could almost hear it laughing. My
mood that afternoon turned dark as the sky.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">I
don't usually get angry just because I can't remember where i left
something. The word annoyed is more appropriate. Annoyed because
instead of using the time for weeding or spading, I'll be roaming
around the garden looking for it. While at it, the idea of painting
the handles of all my garden tools yellow comes back to mind, but
soon forgotten until the next time it happens again. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">This
bout of short term amnesia must be epidemic. My neighbor, also a
gardener like me, often asked if I have borrowed this or that
tool. Most of the time I can't even be sure if I did so I'll be
looking around the house. If I can't find it, it doesn't mean I
didn't. Maybe I just don't remember where I left it. If he can't
remember who borrowed it or in fact, nobody did and that he just
don't remember where he left it, then definitely I'm not alone
suffering from short term amnesia.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">I
haven't really thought about this dilemma until now. Why do
gardeners often forget where they left their tools? What causes them
to forget? I was attending a seminar on organic farming with some
friends when I asked those questions. A friend has this opinion: A
gardener has too many plans for his garden and too little time to do
them all. Agreed! Another friend said: A garden tool, especially an
old rake, looks like a bean pole and has the color of soil so that
it is camouflaged with the surroundings. And I said maybe because
our focus is not on the tools. They're on what they're used for and
that is, to grow beautiful and heathy plants, to which my neighbor
countered: Come on! Why don't you just accept the fact that
forgetting is one thing old people are good at. And I said: Oh,
yes! That, too. </span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-62139287719362142432012-09-14T07:50:00.000-07:002012-09-14T08:11:15.738-07:00gift of friendship<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">Here
we are, living in a world so different from the one we used know a
few decades ago. What used to be the in thing then is now history.
Remember those days when communicating meant writing letters on
paper, and that you have to buy postage stamps at the post office to
send them? Just thinking about that tedious process makes you winch.
Now, mails, or rather emails are sent as easy and as fast as your
internet connection can muster in a matter of seconds. Paying
monthly bills used to be as tedious too. Imagine those days when
you have to be physically there, falling in line with all those
people in a long snaking queue. But now, thanks to internet
technology, the farthest trip is from where you are to the computer
table. It's quite amazing actually, that people have the capacity to
adapt and embrace technology as a natural course of modern life. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">I
could write a few more examples of changes that we all are aware of,
but that would be deviating from my main topic. The reason why I
chose to write about changes in the first paragraph is to compare
them to things that don't. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">Love,
in all forms, and directed to different people in our lives, didn't
and won't change. Though technology has changed how we communicate
with each other, basically, it's just the same old Love – that same
feeling of warmth and affection that our grandparents and
great-grandparents had given and received. Finding love still brings
happiness and losing it still brings sadness as it did before. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">To
have a friend to love, confide and enjoy a moment with, a need
which is as old as the sea, won't change. A friend is a gift you
give to yourself – the one that needs no elaborate wrapping ...
just in its true form and color. Once you acknowledge that gift, you
move, not to a necessarily higher level but rather to a unique one.
You'll learn to appreciate yourself more - in your capacity to be
thoughtful, kind and generous. You will also discover the ability to
make people smile or laugh at jokes and at life with all its
complexities and random absurdness. And more importantly, that gift
makes you want to be a better person. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-41798336353340473842012-08-07T04:36:00.002-07:002012-08-07T04:36:47.758-07:00FRIENDS<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">Last
two weeks was hectic. We were expecting some guests and as usual, we
were so busy doing the preparation – general cleaning, planning
the recipes and all those things that go with it. My sisters
especially - they woke up early and slept late. I was wondering why
all the fuss for a two-day fiesta celebration? I mean, it happens
every year! Nothing new about it. But this year's celebration was
different, I was told. Linda and Walding are coming. In case you're
wondering, they're my sisters' best friends. They went to the same
school, lived in the same apartment, ate the same food, et cetera.
The last year (or was it last two?) I was in highschool then and got
to know them for quite a while. Being the youngest of the roommates,
I was not on their level of thinking and being of different “breed”
(not really the right word,I know but I'd change that if the right
word comes along), I stayed at the background and whether or not they
knew it, they were my idols. You see, unlike the other occupants of
the adjacent apartment who often times had differences and tiffs,
they seemed to have no problems at all, living together. I remember
them as friends in the real sense of the word.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">I
confess that I was a bit apprehensive. You see, there were times
when somebody I was working with or was at one time or another my
roommate or classmate, would just greet me and call me by name and I
had no idea who he or she is. Or if I do remember because we were
friends once upon a time, there's just nothing to talk about anymore.
So there was this fear that I might not be a good company. While I
could do some weather-talk, it's just not enough to hold a
conversation. Small talk is boring and embarrassing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">As
it turned out, Linda and Walding haven't changed that much. Sure
they've grown into matured and fine ladies, and well- traveled at
that, but otherwise, they are just being as they were as I knew them
45 years ago: fun to be with. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Nimbus Sans L, sans-serif;">And
we didn't even talk about the weather.</span></div>
<br />sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-73375929518876924532012-08-07T04:23:00.000-07:002012-08-07T04:23:47.683-07:00SAVED BY THE BELL<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">When
i was still studying at PSID in Makati, there were a lot design
projects to do. I remember hurrying to the classroom, carrying a
T-square on one hand and on the other, a bag full of triangles,
pencils, watercolors, oil pastels, brushes and a rigid envelop
containing all of the design plates that our instructors so love to assign
us. Weeknights were spent making perspective drawings from floor
plans complete with color renderings. It took a lot of effort to
make just one plate. Imagine making three in one week! It's ironic
though that I still think it was the best episode of my life.I
enjoyed the challenge of making the plates, especially on subjects
like Color Rendering, Freehand and Perspective Drawings.
Architectural and Art History was quite boring but there was one
subject that really made me anxious: Interior Design I. Our
instructor was very critical. His verbal assaults can be
discouraging. My first plate was, according to him, capricious. I
didn't know exactly what he meant, but by the way he said it, I knew
it was not a compliment. When he returned our plates, I stared at the
red marking he mercilessly scribbled on my plate: 2.5 - barely
passing the prelim. It was the only subject that marred my report
card. I hated him that moment. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">During
the finals, he made us design our own ideal private spaces. A place
of well-being, he called it. Most of my classmates had such
grandiose ideas but I opted to be honest about it. So I designed my
ideal bedroom. We were required to explain in writing why we think it
is our place of well-being. Then came the time to submit our plates.
My anxiety grew as our instructor mounted our plates on the wall.
There were so many drawings, good and bad, of log cabins, mountain
resorts and beach houses. Mine looked pathetic compared to the
others. A bedroom! To make matters worse, he called each one to
read what he wrote while our instructor holds the student's plate for
us to see. We had a few laughs but most of the time we were silent.
When it was my time to stand in front and read, the bell rang, My
friend Ellie whispered to me: You're saved by the bell. I smiled at
her and said: So are you. And we both laughed. Her plate was
mounted next to mine.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">The
following week, we had our grades. Most of my final grades from other
subjects were either one point less or more than midterm, but to my
surprise and relief, my Interior Design I grade of 2.5 became 1.4 - quite a big leap, if I might add. My only regret though is that of not
knowing why. If I wasn't saved by the bell, would I have listened to
a compliment instead? </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-39425119463000899692012-08-07T03:50:00.001-07:002012-08-07T04:25:14.639-07:00<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style>
<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;"><b>THE
TROUBLE WITH GARDENING</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">There's
just too much work to do in the garden, and thinking about it makes
you want to quit sometimes. But then, little by little, a 20 meter
plot is almost ready for planting after many days of hard work.
There's so much investment there: time, labor (yours, and a hired
hand) and yes, love! and you just can't leave it bare. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">While
this may sound like you're making a mountain out of a molehill to
those who haven't tried it, I'm sure many gardeners would agree. I
mean, only gardeners experience the frustrations in this line of work
- frustrations like weeds, pests, too much rain ( or lack of it),
sweltering heat and just like what we had a few days ago, stormy
weather. And in your frustrated mind you asked questions like <i>why
do weeds grow faster than your pampered broccoli? Why of all the
plants and weeds and grass and shrubs that grow in abundance nearby,
pests choose to nibble on young leaves of your squash? Why can't a
weather be good all the time? Why can't it stop raining? Why do
typhoons come when the corn is in its most vulnerable?</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">But
then, like everything else, these problems end, one by one. The
weather becomes favorable, the pests find the maturing leaves too
hard and brittle for their liking and weeds succumbed to constant
assault. The compost that you put in your plot just started to take
effect and your veggies growing just fine. That's when you find
yourself humming a tune while pottering around the garden. You see
the first huge yellow flower of squash and to you, it seems like a
child's brilliant smile and you smile back! Frustrations? What
frustrations? Hah!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">The
first sign of success perks you up so you made plans last night.
Still you can't decide which vegetable to plant next to the bunching
onions. Tomatoes? Snap beans? Peanuts? Radish? Melon? A bit of a
problem as you can see when you have too many choices. Of course, it
won't be too difficult to decide if you didn't buy all those
packets of all those seeds! </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">You
wake up earlier nowadays - too early a few times so you impatiently
sit on the doorstep, waiting for the sun to show up. Even then, your
impatience is rewarded (as if you deserve it). Just before the sun
appears above the horizon, the colors of the spectrum tinting the sky
greets you. As you walk through a thinning fog and open the garden
gate, the waft of dew- laden grass awakens the senses. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">The
thought of quitting disintegrates.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: DejaVu Sans Condensed, sans-serif;">And
that's the other trouble of gardening. You just can't quit.</span></div>
<br />sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-15841893373150127752011-12-10T15:18:00.001-08:002011-12-10T17:02:45.726-08:00Island Fever<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jOgQTrFBAVQ/SfFmzYcnaxI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Nx2IvqDJgY0/s1600/puntod+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jOgQTrFBAVQ/SfFmzYcnaxI/AAAAAAAAAOM/Nx2IvqDJgY0/s400/puntod+1.jpg" width="400" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="color: blue;">The sandbar at Puntod Island of Panglao forms a letter C during low tide. It's one of my favorite places in Bohol.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> <span style="color: blue;">You can see the Balicasag Island from here</span></span></span><span style="color: blue;">.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="color: blue;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_tW4mqPt0O8/SfFmD5WilII/AAAAAAAAAOE/RtjMxDMkeZs/s1600/puntodview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="136" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_tW4mqPt0O8/SfFmD5WilII/AAAAAAAAAOE/RtjMxDMkeZs/s400/puntodview.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">This is Puntod Island silhouetted against the horizon. We were about a kilometer away from the island when I took this shot.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0NYwiGggHHs/SfE6aJVqQtI/AAAAAAAAAN8/vvYFAVzOT7s/s1600/boatride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0NYwiGggHHs/SfE6aJVqQtI/AAAAAAAAAN8/vvYFAVzOT7s/s400/boatride.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">The boat we rented during our island hopping.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-05amUqKP3jo/SfE09M_qtcI/AAAAAAAAANs/7bh17uNgZbI/s1600/boat+at+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-05amUqKP3jo/SfE09M_qtcI/AAAAAAAAANs/7bh17uNgZbI/s400/boat+at+sunset.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The day started and ended beautifully...with little mishaps and serendipity along the way. . .</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wJQ1QUVHPcw/SfF3ugHxcQI/AAAAAAAAAOU/BAIv7wyZYH0/s1600/causeway2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wJQ1QUVHPcw/SfF3ugHxcQI/AAAAAAAAAOU/BAIv7wyZYH0/s400/causeway2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">On the way to Panglao Island via Causeway and Tagbilaran Fishing Port route. This tranquil view of Banat-i Hill and Baclayon coastline is one of the gift nature freely gives to travellers.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-21090058065561671582011-11-27T12:45:00.001-08:002011-12-10T17:44:19.521-08:00<div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
Seven months. That's how long ago since the last time I used this computer. As a blogger, that's a major sin of omission. </div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
A rather drastic change of lifestyle actually-from a city mouse to town mouse. Now I'm using spading fork instead of laptop to do a day's work.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><b>My friends' reactions differed. Some said it was a stupid move to quit my job. That's expected. Heck, I even thought it was indeed stupid when my first musk melon plot suffered from fungi attack due to heavy rains. But you know what? When what you're doing is what you really want to do all along, that's all that matters. In my case, frustrations like fungi attack is nothing compared to the satisfaction of harvesting bumper tomatoes or sweetcorn. Or munching a crispy lettuce leaf straight from your garden! Nothing's quite like it. And that's just the tangible side of things. </b></i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><b>So now you know. Posts for sally's musings will be a bit different from now on. I'd probably be babbling about my garden...if I could, I'll post some photos too...</b></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><b><br /></b></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><b>That's all for today. </b></i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-15033875459909470092011-03-21T18:21:00.000-07:002011-03-21T18:21:29.547-07:00SCAMS AND SCHEMES!!<span style="font-size: small;">I know you've heard this before but I am saying it anyway: Earning money online is easy IF you know how to do it. But if you are a newbie, expect to be discouraged after a few months. I mean, if you tried signing up on PTC sites like I did, I am sure you earned a little, like 2 to 10 dollars. Some PTC sites pay you two to three times but after that, they just refuse to pay, saying that you have to invest money first before you get paid, as if spending time clicking their ads is not an investment already. So you rent referrals who are mostly either inactive or just plain lazy to click. And you rented them for a month at $0.22 each. So what happens is that you are losing instead of earning more because you have rented some lousy referrals. And before you knew it, it's time for renewal. My advice is, </span><br />
<a href="http://blogs.fanbox.com/Ihavespentmostofmytimeresearchingforways">Read More</a>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-26663721381791588932011-03-18T21:25:00.001-07:002011-03-18T21:25:45.976-07:00<span style="font-size: small;">The French says <em>je t'aime</em>; Germans, <em>Ich liebe dich</em>; Italians, <em>ti voglio bene</em>; Filipinos, <em>iniibig kita</em>, to name just a few of the different translations of the English sentence <em>I love you</em>. And somewhere, right now, someone is saying that to someone special, the object of his or her affection. Some people though find it so hard to say I love you. Why is that? Well, the reason for one person may vary from yours, but mostly it's one or two of the following:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Firstly, saying I love you needs courage. Lots of it. Why? Because when you say "I love you", </span><br />
<a href="http://blogs.fanbox.com/TheFrenchsays">Read More</a>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-55715343769401028902011-02-08T05:38:00.000-08:002011-02-08T06:16:36.512-08:00Dumaluan Beach, Panglao, Bohol<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TVE6GR51P2I/AAAAAAAAAYU/geUYnBUn7Io/s1600/dumaedited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TVE6GR51P2I/AAAAAAAAAYU/geUYnBUn7Io/s320/dumaedited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Dumaluan Beach of Panglao Island is one of the most frequented beach resorts in Bohol. It's area is big enough to accommodate hundreds. As you can see in the picture, Dumaluan has white sand and full of trees like coconuts (lots of it), <i>talisay</i>, and other native trees that usually grow near salty water. They are really a great plus factor as they provide shade from the scorching sun during summer and act also as wind breaker during <i>habagat season (</i>southwest monsoon<i>)</i>.<br />
It is best to go there on weekdays because weekends are usually the days for families to have a picnic but if you really have to, reserve a hut in advance. The good thing about renting a hut is that you can stay for as long as you want. There are huts (about 50) that are open on both sides and also enclosed nipa huts for those who want privacy. The rent for a nipa hut (private) is 1000 pesos (about 20-22 USD) for one day (24 hours) accommodation. There are bigger rooms available too for those who want to stay longer. Like most resorts, Dumaluan also have the amenities for scuba diving, island hopping, dolphin watching, kayaking, kite gliding and they also have a boat with glass floor (it's like snorkelling without getting wet).<br />
<br />
Unlike those resorts along the Alona strip where the night-life is rather too "lively", at Dumaluan, you'll experience nature and quiet. Although there are times when parties are celebrated, they usually sizzle out at midnight. The favorite pasttime however is beach-combing, hiking or jogging along the beach. So for those who want to relax, Dumaluan is the right place to be.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TVFOkwNu5aI/AAAAAAAAAYY/pudthoWOj3I/s1600/1111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TVFOkwNu5aI/AAAAAAAAAYY/pudthoWOj3I/s320/1111.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
For reservation, log on to <a href="http://www.dumaluanbeach.com/reservations.php">http://www.dumaluanbeach.com/reservations.php</a> or<br />
email @ <a href="mailto:resort@dumaluanbeach.com">resort@dumaluanbeach.com</a><br />
<br />
Landline no.: (+63)038-5029092<br />
Fax no.:(+63)038-5029081<br />
Mobile no. +639178834888<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Best-Cebu-Bohol-Restaurants-Philippines/dp/9719241519?ie=UTF8&tag=sallysmusings-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="Best of Cebu and Bohol: Guide to Hotels, Resorts, Restaurants, Tourist Spots, Shopping Areas (Philippines)" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=9719241519&tag=sallysmusings-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=sallysmusings-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=9719241519" style="border: medium none ! important; margin: 0px ! important; padding: 0px ! important;" width="1" />sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-73497900742999155682011-01-26T00:46:00.000-08:002011-01-26T00:46:44.466-08:00pickpockets galore?Just this morning, my sister called from the pier, asking me to look inside her bedroom to see if she'd left her wallet there. It wasn't there... not in her room, not in her daughter's, not in the living room, nowhere inside the house. Although, and I really hope so, there's a chance that she left it inside her wardrobe cabinet (which is locked). But the thing is, her shoulder bag's zipper was open when she arrived at the pier. And her wallet gone. She was riding on a tricycle with another passenger whom the driver picked up on the way to the pier. Of course, the other passenger's stop changed after he (allegedly) got what he wanted. <br />
<br />
Similar stories like this has been told and heard. It's an annoying fact that this crime is rampant and shows no sign of stopping and of being stopped or solved by authorities concerned. It's an annoying fact that we have to exert more effort trying hard not to become a victim of such crime. I mean, there you are, travelling alone, afraid, and defensive. What could be more exhausting than that?sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-78866722532651956962011-01-16T20:49:00.000-08:002011-01-16T20:49:38.993-08:00a wild relative of the soursop?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTO8BafnGYI/AAAAAAAAAX4/LxvkHzFJh6A/s1600/wildfruit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTO8BafnGYI/AAAAAAAAAX4/LxvkHzFJh6A/s320/wildfruit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPEMKvFCjI/AAAAAAAAAYE/o5zaEUxdGL8/s1600/wildguy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPEMKvFCjI/AAAAAAAAAYE/o5zaEUxdGL8/s320/wildguy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
this wild fruit, as shown above, has a similarity to the regular soursop: skin texture, smell and color. Both leaves of the regular soursop and the wild version smells the same, only the wild one is a bit slimmer. (The light green oblong beside the fruit is the bud.) The size however, is just about 1/20 of the popular and otherwise the regular sousop below:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPAnhJLVcI/AAAAAAAAAYA/0hKVpNXFtcU/s1600/soursop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPAnhJLVcI/AAAAAAAAAYA/0hKVpNXFtcU/s320/soursop.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPEMKvFCjI/AAAAAAAAAYE/o5zaEUxdGL8/s1600/wildguy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>The flesh is also white and fibrous. But is it edible? Anyone knows what this wild fruit's name is? We discovered its existence recently when we went to an old friend's small coffee plantation. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPJRv2pK0I/AAAAAAAAAYI/OEJ37YVlkvw/s1600/to+the+mount.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTPJRv2pK0I/AAAAAAAAAYI/OEJ37YVlkvw/s320/to+the+mount.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> It was long way up, but it was worth it.</div><br />
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</a></div>sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2751827368206973392.post-20784591877679816312011-01-16T17:23:00.000-08:002011-01-16T17:23:13.021-08:00monday kind of feeling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTOYFJCc5NI/AAAAAAAAAX0/dQDRQ1rjgsQ/s1600/rainshine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Ell-4-davOs/TTOYFJCc5NI/AAAAAAAAAX0/dQDRQ1rjgsQ/s320/rainshine.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Monday. First working day of the week. Rain. My mind is not yet switched on. I just kept looking outside my window. Drizzle. Drizzle. Drizzle. For a few minutes, the sun gets through and then back to how it started. I got this feeling that today, this soft rain will go on until late afternoon.<br />
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It's been like this for over two weeks now. I miss sunsets. I mean beautiful sunsets...not the kind we had the last two weeks where you see nothing but a gray mantle of a sky. <br />
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Monday kind of feeling, figuratively and literally.sallyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17346296635703562760noreply@blogger.com0