A Photojournal of a Poconos Weekend

So I stand before my Poconos kitchen sink window and find the sun, rising, peeking through the bare woods. It looks like it's going to be a bright day. I've  mentioned in one of my entries before that beyond that hill lives a lady who is battling  lung cancer. I just found out yesterday that Helene passed away  last Christmas.  I only met her once when our neighbor who was her bestfriend tried to sell her floral couch to me. I obliged to take a look at it even if I knew I wasn't going to buy. The couch was too matronly for my taste. I never got to see her again. She was in our prayer list of sick people. She  never knew that. Death is such a sad affair. I hope she is happy where she is now.

So the sun shone brightly and cast beautiful shadows of the bare trees on the  snowy ground. I savor this scenery from my  dining baywindow. That jungle gym is Zach's although he rarely plays in it. It's just not fun with the absence of playmates  his size.

Promising blue skies. A crow cawing.  The trees though bare are beautiful. They have such strength to endure the cold of winter. They stand tall and proud and patiently await the coming of spring. I can sense them silently raring to bud and leaf out, and  they wait and wait and  wait...

I thought of God. He is faithful. His love keeps coming back...wooing, comforting me...like the trees that keep leafing out after the cold winter.

I watched the morning shadows and realized  there are animal tracks  all around the house. 

What critter is this that leaves tracks in a line? Shouldn't they come in pairs?

The animal tracks come in different sizes. The animals are looking for food. They are coming out of hibernation.

I snapped out of my (through the window) investigations and made myself Dalandan (Philippines citrus) juice. Every sip of this brings me back home to the Philippines and memories of eating the fruit itself.
I think a dalandan loaf cake is in order.

 Then I plan  and contemplate  what to do with  my mushrooms. There are  oysters and white and brown shijemi mushrooms. I would love these in  beef strogannoff but I do not have  cream or milk or sourcream.

and so when you do not have the desired ingredient in hand, you just resort to sauteeing with butter and garlic and sprinkling the dish with a little bit of soy sauce.And it does the trick. Mushrooms are soo forgiving and  delicious.

 And while I contemplate the mushrooms, I realize, it is February and  our  MR. Men themed Christmas tree is still up and smiling!!!

My eyes focus on my Christmas stocking. I miss my NANAY.  There is a story behind this cross-stitched stocking. That story will be for the next entry.

Dimples---that's my nickname at home. Funny thing I realize  though, my siblings call me the name without the  s. And  when they write the name down, they do so like this---Dimpol.  When people find out about my nickname, they automatically ask where my dimples are. I do have dimples on my face, only I have to be smiling, not laughing for them to show. Anyway, I hate  to have to smile to simply show my dimples, so I just say my dimples are on my buns so I can't show them off. ;-)

Zachary wanted to sing, so we went down to the basement and set up the Karaoke. I've joined the bazillion of Filipinos who own karaokes at home, although it took me about 4  years before I started using it. It is really a good tool to get Zachary to practice his reading. Currently his favorite song is El Shaddai.

I draw the curtains apart so I can look outside while I listen to Zachary sing.

 and oh..Here's the sauteed mushroom I made as a side dish to the  beef jerky. With brown rice,  this is lunch.

Before noontime, beautiful flurries started to float and twirl down, down to the white ground. Beautiful and sad. I miss Junie and I miss my Nanay.
I never thought I would ever grieve for two people at the same time. Quite disturbing really...also confusing...

"Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location,a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure  you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes, this will bring hope."
                                   ----Elizabeth Gilbert

I know...I'm not the first. People from generation to generation have gone through beraevements. And I will not be the last either. Death is nothing new. It is part of life. It's just  THAT part of  life that is  too painful. I first got acquainted with death in my early teen years when my Tatay (Dad) so  unexpectedly succumbed  to angina pectoris. I thought I would never get over the pain. It's been thirty-three years, and all those time, indeed healed the wound and hushed the pain in my very young heart. I am left with  beautiful memories of him.

"To weep is to make less  the depth of grief."
----William Shakespeare

So I listened to Zach sing his heart out, and I wept. Zach is getting used to my quiet weeping...before Feb 1 (when my Nanay passed away) he would ask me, "Are you crying because you miss Tito Budz?" Now he would ask me " Are you crying for Tito Budz or Nanay?"

I realize, my grieving sometimes is for losing my mother and kid brother...two beloved ones. Sometimes, the grieving is just for one, Other times, the grieving is for one, then for the other, alternately. I've a battered heart.

"It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest  hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a  window, or one notices that a  flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer...and everything collapses."
                                                                                                 ---Colette

"grief is a house where the chairs have forgotten how to hold us
the mirrors how to reflect us
the walls how to contain us
grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell
a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust
that buries itself in the ground while everyone is sleeping
grief is a house where no one can protect you
where the younger sister will grow older than the older one
where the doors no longer  let you in or  out."
                                                                      ---Jandy Nelson, The Sky is Everywhere

I zoomed in to take a shot of this tangled mess. It looks like my thoughts.Well, Spring is a month away.  Soon, these branches heavy with snow will grow  buds, and look fresh and  new. I hope my thoughts clear up with the  budding of the  trees.
I cannot wait.

My sister Agnes who was visiting from the Philippines once  noted the snow on the branches and said, "Yeah, that's exactly how they  paint these on Christmas cards."  And she said it like it was a serendipitous moment.



I looked through the other bay window. There stood the concrete birdbath waiting for it's time to welcome birds in the Spring.
Perhaps, Spring will help take off some of the heaviness in the heart?



I zoomed in and found some cracks at the base. The cold of harsh winter year after year has finally penetrated this faithful birdbath. Even so I know this Spring, it will continue to  make birds happy with the water it will hold. It will again be a sight to behold.


"Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?"
"it is the sun shining on the rain, and the rain falling on the sunshine..."
--Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden