High tide. Debris of all sort float upriver. Pag-asa refuses to declare that the summer ends today. It promises though that maybe next week--the first week of June--summer departs.
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| The Jal-o at Bag-ot |
High tide. And the rain pours shower on the arid land. How I wish it is already weekend and I can transplant those three seedlings given to me by the fair elfin lady. The orchard is still a mess though. The weeds are tall and the black-brown coucals (kokok) are still nesting on the thickets.
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| Kokok (Photo credit: Alex Loinaz @ birdwatch) |
High Tide. I will remember your time this weekend. My old folks believe that fruit trees planted at your heights bear fruits in abundance. My friend's gifts will have to be replaced on a fertile damped ground at your hour that they may yield great in their appointed time. But I want to be sure. Hence, I shall harvest a few vermicast and spread it out around the holes where they shall be planted.
Yes. On high tide this weekend.
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