March and Everything After
March 2020
Frankie and I moved out here. Here is a sparsely populated residential area in the outskirts of the city. Here we see blue skies, fruit trees, flowering plants, weeds, vegetables and free range Kabir and Paraoakan (Parawakan) chickens, ducks and turkeys. Here is where we isolated ourselves when the country was put under quarantine because of the novel coronavirus pandemic.
April 2020
Summer is now on full blast. By 9 am, the sun’s rays were already searing bare skin. We started wearing long-sleeved shirts when we make the rounds. But the heat + pesky horseflies = itchies galore so other days we get by with just a hat. It was so hot that we could hear the crunch of cracked soil with each step taken. So hot that our feet bore suntan marks resembling the inverted T straps of our slippers.
May 2020
Now we wear masks, keep our distance, and wash hands frequently as if we’ve been born doing this. I’m still sad that Frankie can no longer attend ballet. I miss the kids in my class. I’ve dreamt of swimming in blue green water and browsing the shelves of my favorite secondhand book shop. At night, I read the same bedtime book that I read when we first arrived in March. Perhaps my son was having a harder time than he was letting on. It’s a gift, that book- the constant in our ever changing days.
June 2020
Yet many things have remained the same. We still:
- love the outdoors,
- homeschool,
- cook meals from scratch,
- compost,
- support local products,
- plant most of our food,
- reuse and repurpose materials,
- harvest rainwater
- give thanks for the blue sky and everything that we have
- strive to be better than the day before.
July 2020
The rains have arrived. I bet the ducks are happy with this development, as are the garden and the trees. Almost every other afternoon or evening, there’s a drizzle or a downpour. My feet with the inverted T suntan marks are now well encased in rubber boots when I muck around the place. The soil is clay like, clinging to any surface with a vengeance.
August 2020
I attempted to count the free-range friends in these parts. I must have been out of my mind to think that I could since they come and go as they well please. At least the Kabir chickens can stay on the ground on account of their size and weight. The Pawakan and turkeys are a different story altogether. One of their favorite hang outs is this 15 ft. Balingbing (Star Fruit) tree. One time I was throwing fruit and veggie scraps and before these could hit the ground, big birds of different colors swooped down. If I didn’t see this first hand, I would never have believed chickens and turkeys could fly.
It’ll be September in two weeks, then we’ll have reached the six month mark in this situation called the new normal. Things are difficult as it is and it’s probably going to get worse before it gets manageable. For people who are easily overwhelmed, going through something like this is a nightmare. I know because I am one of those highly sensitive people and I think my son is too.
To avoid being consumed by the chatter in my brain, one of the things I do to steer my thoughts back on track (and I have to be on track because I am a parent), is taking deep breaths. I take a deep breathe and give thanks- to those who have come and gone before me for allowing me and my son to be here, on this land.
*Credit where credit is due. The title of this post was inspired by the name of my all time favorite Counting Crows album which was released September of 1993, August and Everything After.
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