November 09, 2006

Do you have a green thumb?

Coming from a tropical country, you might think I do. My history with plants or planting has not been entirely unfortunate. I’m not sure if they still do it, but back in my time some form of farming was imposed on elementary students by public schools, especially in the rural areas. In our bags we would pack trowels alongside snacks (nothing fancy like present-day junk food), tattered books that were remnants of the Marcos years and that we had to share with a seatmate, notebooks and pencils.

I suppose they wanted to inculcate industry in our young minds as each of us was assigned garden plots to cultivate. I believe we were graded according to how “alive” our plants looked. I can’t say I passed with flying colors, but I did pass. I do remember bringing home a small harvest of pechay once.

In the Philippines, gardening is a common affair, especially in the provinces. You find a spot that’s healthy enough for a plant to thrive in, dig a hole, put the plant in, cover the hole with dugout soil and let nature take care of the rest. The sun is shining most of the time, so why worry?

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It's the waiting game for these two plant cuttings that are struggling to stay alive.

When I came here I was pretty confident I can keep a plant alive. The husband has been nurturing two plant species, one of which was threatening to make a jungle out of the living room, the other ready to jump out of the pot. We assessed the problem and agreed that something had to be done.

We tackled the money tree (Pachira Aquatica) first. He hadn’t anticipated the tree would grow up to six feet tall (and was still growing!) and expected me to remedy the situation. We retreated to Google and realized he had unwittingly purchased a tree whose growth should have been monitored and controlled from Day 1. That left us with no recourse but to cut off some of its branches, but only after he had grudgingly overcome his attachment to the tree.

The other plant (Dieffenbachia) is still growing wildly in its pot, its leaves fanning out, and I’m still at a loss on how to control it. Thinking it was an outdoor plant (well, it looked like it was) I had moved it from the living room to the porch, not factoring in the cold weather. A few weeks later, the leaves started to turn yellow, much to the husband’s amusement. Further research showed that not only is the plant’s sap extremely poisonous, Dieffenbachias require a warm environment (but not too dry) to survive.

I have, however, decided to make a little experiment on replanting in an effort to propagate the plant. The cuttings, planted in two small pots, seem to be trying their best to stay alive. I guess we’ll see in the next few weeks if I can be trusted with plants.

Posted by fleur at 08:38 PM | Comments (2)

November 07, 2006

Civil status: Married

Time to get a little mushy. As friends and family know by now, we finally did it. Tied the knot, that is. November 3rd is the date to remember. A couple of years later and there we were, standing in the middle of a park, grinning like crazy. It’s amazing how a 15-minute ceremony could culminate a long journey (a day shy of two years), the better part of which spent 10,000 miles apart.

In an email to close friends, I wrote that he and I did not have a whirlwind, conventional romance but the wedding was certainly express. Forty-five minutes after securing the marriage license from the courthouse, we drove to a park where the marriage officiator was to meet us. We walked with her in the park, thinking she would lead us to an office or residence to perform the ceremony. Not so. In the middle of the park she pointed to a spot in front of a tree and proceeded with the rite. He and I exchanged surprised looks that said, “Right here?”

Remember how you discriminating cinephiles out there used to cringe when you get to the part where a love-struck couple couldn’t tear their eyes off each other, start to wax poetic and claim the world had stood still for them? I’ve got some news for you – it is possible. I refuse to incriminate myself further.

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Once upon a time, I, too, dreamed of a little wedding. A little chapel somewhere, a flowing gown, a bridal entourage in pretty dresses, that sentimental moment of being “given away” by teary-eyed parents, a reception lasting two hours, the exchange of vows at the altar, an unforgettable honeymoon. Not all dreams come true the way we want them, but see, life is a little tricky and happiness has its own ways of finding you. We do not even belong to the same religion so scratch the altar part.

I simply remember standing there, looking into his eyes and, yes, grinning. I remember being nervous that I recited my vows at the same time he was saying his (like a mass oath-taking) and the officiator had to stop me. “Let him say his part first.” Oops. I broke out laughing. I remember having fun. I will remember those 15 minutes and the way that he looked.

On the way home, that silly smile still pasted on our faces, the first words out of my mouth were, “Wow. I’m married.”

Posted by fleur at 05:54 AM | Comments (3)