Grand musings on grandmommy

I don’t know what it is with orchids and garden plants that makes me want to wake up early in the morning to water them. As far as I know, the only thing that can effectively rouse me from slumber at an ungodly hour is a toss-up between finishing work-related deadline (i.e., the kind where the knife is about to drop, get it?) and catching a ride for the much-awaited out-of-town trip.

The exercise takes all of two hours. No kidding. And it does not get better. Each time I look, the pots feel like they’re going to crack from the weight of overgrown orchids and flowering plants, meaning, we will have to transfer the outgrowth to new pots yet again. It is a never-ending cycle; has always been this way for more years than I care to count. But no one seems to mind. Surely not me, more assuredly not my Inang. Gardening keeps her hale and healthy.

My main point on watering the plants is that it is always followed by an invariably lively morning talk with Inang over the usual fare of hotdogs, bacon, butter, strawberry jam, pandesal and coffee. This quasi-ritual I have come to enjoy over time, if only to tell me over and over again how resilient, courageous, revered, and funny Inang is, all at the same time. Possibly without her being aware of it, I have come to know, value and love her more because of this.

For one, because of her, I now know how I am related to my neighbor-cousins. Ours is one circuitous tree, if there ever was one - what with ancient stepmothers, half-brothers and half-sisters among the branches. Now, do I remember the fruits of the tree and the branch to which they belong? Come to think of it, at 87, Inang truly has a remarkably sharp memory.

Then, there are always these people who drop by from time to time to consult her on issues ranging from the mundane to those heavy enough to split a close-knit clan. For some reason, her advice seem to weigh a lot to them.

On another note, she is a one-woman charitable institution. I know a lot of people come to her to borrow money. She gives and gives even if at times she knows that the money is good as gone as soon as it leaves her hand. While at it, I also remember some hired hands who took advantage of her generosity and gullibility. She says it’s always better to give than to receive. I’ve known it since kindergarten but more than two decades later, the lesson still begs for my full appreciation, understanding and application. If anything, I guess I got the ‘gullible strain’ from her, of all things.

Still on another note, every time she cooks lunch or dinner for relatives, everyone turns up. It might be because she is, I think, the oldest in the clan. But then again, it might have more to do with the food spread on the table which, although mostly consisting of more or less the same fare each and every time, taste really, really, really good.

She just has this idiosyncracy that is truly her own and one that never fails to drive me off the wall.

She has this costly habit of reordering and/or changing things. By things, I mean any area of the house ranging from the garden, the kitchen, the bedrooms...or the house itself. It’s like this: after commissioning work to rework the kitchen, she somehow finds something lacking or wrong with it several months later. Rework on top of rework. You have to thank the heavens if the structure remains untouched after one year.

There are other equally fascinating incidents which I cannot quite remember in detail any longer. I just hope I have absorbed the lesson well, like the food I eat everyday. I mean, I don’t remember what I ate last month or last week but I’m sure I had my fill and it is now part of who, what and how I am. That kind of thing. :-P




p.s.

belive me, bloggie, when i say that as of today, a couple of hired hands are banging away at the back of the house to relocate the kitchen sink and the cupboard.

oh well.