WRITING EXERCISES

I'm back from a glorious stay at my parents' farm in Batangas. Some people say the word farm is a misnomer. Because it's more like a vacation house. Aside from my dad's mushroom project and some herb planting, hardly any farming has been done yet. But we'll get there. I am planning to take some farming lessons at Tiaong, Quezon with Sister Emma Alday, who is a proponent of Slow Food. The Slow Food movement does not just consider the cooking but also includes slow farming, not using grafts or other materials and processes to hasten the growth of plants. So, soon this black thumb owner will be a farmer. But I procrastinate. Sweat, soil, sun without the sand and surf are not anywhere on my top 100 list of favorite things. In the meantime, this "farm" place is for lolling and for the fine art of doing nothing, something I'm very, very good at.

It was just an overnight trip, and I wish we could have stayed longer. Didn't "do nothing" long enough. But just the same, I enjoyed it immensely. Just walking around the sloping terrain, seeing green, still awed by the view of the distant lake, lying on the daybed to read, dining with my parents and their friends, painting, journaling, bible-reading, taking sunset photos, finally meeting our new puppies, and just sitting and lying. Lovely, lovely, lovely. It was so relaxing, I don't even want to write any more so I don't tire myself now that I'm back in the city. I'm just really happy that I am blessed with pockets of time to slow down and appreciate the fine art of doing nothing.