WHERE HAVE ALL THE PINE TREES GONE?

Filipinos arise! Rekindle pride in our Highlands and its treasures!
Bring back Igorot pride to our treasured Benguet mountains.
Bring back national pride to the cherished city of Baguio!
Restore the proud, stately mountain pines and their aroma to what is now the ugly, scarred terrain of these once-beautiful mountains, to the hills and surroundings of the so-called “Eternal Spring City” of our nation.

Spring City, really? Where? When?
Indeed, no longer can we smell and breathe in the erstwhile invigorating pine-scented mountain spring air of Baguio, save perhaps within the few remaining enclaves the U.S. Forces had zealously protected until they turned over their bases to our national and local governments; pristine enclaves that evidently had subsequently fallen to corruption, abuse, and the personal gain of the new stewards.
Even more sadly, such abuse and neglect prejudices their own children’s enjoyment, who will most likely behold instead the hideous, angular structures, the concrete facades, the slums, garbage, squalor and denudation; who will most likely gag instead at the stench of dank, polluted air no different from the smog of the lowlands.
The well-being, it seems, of future Igorots, Kankaneys, Benguet citizens and Cordillera folk—nay, entire Filipino generations – is forfeit. Unless…

Unless we act, and act soon enough.
Unless the pine trees are replanted.
Unless Baguio’s forests are replenished.
Unless the mountains are rejuvenated.

Where have all the tree lovers, and all Baguio lovers, gone?

Could not every man, woman, child, highlander, make it their duty to plant those precious pine trees in their own yards till there’s no more room?
Could not every homeowner / resident plant trees beside his home, townhouse, “barong-barong”, or condominium?
Could not every business owner dig out a small patch of pavement and plant a tree on the frontage of his establishment?
Could not citizens / residents nurture and steward young trees – even those planted “publicly”-- well into full bloom and maturity?
Could not vacationers, visitors, tourists be asked to contribute to a reforestation fund by way of fees or surcharges? Or have them plant trees themselves should they want to?
Could not the old, surviving stately pines be catalogued, inventoried, and preserved jointly by government and private groups?
Could not city government offer incentives –say, rebates from taxes & fees on realty, business, etc.—to everyone who plants and stewards?
Could we all not appreciate that these same trees will save us from pollution and erosion, both current and future?
Could we all not agree that these trees will save the city, the mountains, and even the region from blight and destruction?

Certainly the city and the mountain environments -- let’s all start with the pine trees, for heaven’s sake – are worth investing in, saving, and keeping, because they do contribute to the quality of life of every Igorot, ethnic, resident, visitor, all Filipinos alike, present and future.

Our cherished Baguio City and the entire Cordilleras indeed, are NATIONAL and NATURAL TREASURES worth rejuvenating not with pavement facelift, but rather with the verdant cover of living, breathing pine trees!

Oh, please let’s bring back those pine forests to our hallowed mountains!
God bless us all.

Picture of the Day in Webshots Travel

March 25, 2007 (Sunday) was the day my Mount Mayon Volcano scenery was featured in Webshots' Travel Channel. Too bad I was not able to capture the actual day's feature as I was not aware of it's posting until 2 days after. Besides, I was practically down with flu and terribly bad coughs that weekend. So that explains why my email box was rather full - and I thought that was because of spam proliferation. Fellow Webshot (WS) members sent their comments and greetings - all of which I happily responded to and acknowledged. (A little price to pay for a moment of virtual spotlight, I guess.)

Thank you, Lord! May you be praised!

Just click below to view actual image of Mayon:

http://travel.webshots.com/photo/2500122520028972814fUCIac

Our Fathers

This article was lifted from one of my emails to a Webshots member whose mother had just died. The father visits this friend of mine quite regularly perhaps out of loneliness. Hence, this was my email response:

I was deeply touched by your sweet account of your father’s visit and the chitchat you had with him. This tearfully brought me back to the years between 1985 and 1988, the year my father died. After my mom passed away, those 3 years I had with my dad were precious. Your dad’s visits to you were similar to my dad’s visits to me.

Dad would often drop by our house with all sorts of foodstuff & nice things for my family. He’d relate some stories about my mom, including some mischief he undertook. He had 1 or 2 indiscretions before while mom was still alive, and he painfully took the effort to tell us how remorseful he was about them. Yes, in spite of these, he truly loved my mom.

Of all the times that we were together for chitchat, I could never forget this one particular occasion that we were alone – just us together. He told me a story and my twin sister’s in it. So this is his story:

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As a baby and toddler, I was the weaker one, prone to sickness and skin disease than my twin did. Since I was more sickly as a child, naturally, I tended to be more irritable and fussy. So my dad would rather pick-up and cuddle my sister more often than me. And it was just like that for a good number of months, until a terrible accident happened to me when I turned a year old.

If you recall, the Johnson’s baby powder container then was made of tin can, including the bottle cap which was rather sharp at the edges. My parents were not around except for my lola (grandma) who babysat my older brother and us, twins. Somehow, I swallowed the bottlecap and got myself to choking. Seeing my condition, my lola tried prying the cap from my throat using her finger, but this only made it worse. By then I was turning blue from lack of oxygen & my lola froze up & became so hysterical that our neighbors overheard her. They quickly jumped over our fence to investigate, and saw my lola helpless and crying. Only then did they turn their attention to me and notice I was blue and lifeless. Without hesitation, the lady neighbor (dear Lord, bless her soul) just snatched me up, whisked me off in her arms and ran like mad to the nearest hospital (V. Luna Hospital). The doctor told her that had I been taken there a minute later, I would have been a goner.

Immediately after this incident and henceforth, whether I was fussy or not, my father would pick me up MORE OFTEN than he would my sister. Perhaps out of sheer guilt, or maybe gratitude, that I was still alive my father said he drew much closer to me. (End of story)
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You know what? As far back as I can remember, I never really noticed that he cared for me more than my sister. If ever he did, my sister and I never felt the difference. We equally felt his love and care. But somehow, right after he related this story to me, one thing for sure happened. I grew to love my father EVEN MORE. If there was any moment in my entire life that I have ever felt my father’s special love, it was then. Oh, how I miss him so, especially now that he's gone.

So now, please cherish your moments with your dad as often as you can. More so now - now that your mom is no longer around to keep him company. Never, never say “no” to any of his invitations for chitchats. Who knows what stories of gem-like value you can pick up from those moments of togetherness. Come to think of it, whether they are of seeming value or not, that’s really immaterial. What’s important is that by the time he’s gone from this world, you would have created and accumulated precious moments together with him. Pictures and videos with him and your family will do wonders as you share documented happiness for the next generation – to your “apos”, eventually.

And you know what? You will have made one soul utterly happy and blessed, and so overflowing with love enough to last him more than a lifetime. And because of that, the same blessings will certainly bounce back to you even in YOUR own lifetime. Who knows, maybe your own daughter may bestow that back to you. Just as you have been doing, and still are now doing with your own dear father.

As my thoughts of you and your father still linger in me, I close this mail.

Plant Manual - A Beginner's Guide

Here's an article I just simply love & agree with. The author, Michael L. Tan, obviously knows a lot about exotic plants that fascinate the uneducated, the clueless and the ignoramus (as far as plant identification is concerned). I guess I tend to fall under that category, but hey, who cares. I'm obviously learning right now that the money you shell out for a plant rests on how well you don't know the plant's name or your inability to source it cheaply (or freely). Well, for plant lovers like me, be informed and be forewarned.
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Rangoon Creepers and Rain Lilies Posted:0:48 AM (Manila Times) May 20, 2003 By Michael L. Tan

Browse through American and European gardening magazines and you'll find article after article gushing about tropical plants. The other day I picked up one magazine with a cover story extolling the virtues of slipper orchids with advice on caring that was almost as detailed as tips on raising a child. A few minutes later, I passed by a "tiangge" (flea market) with plant dealers and they were selling exactly the same slipper orchids for about a hundred pesos each, together with even cheaper vandas and dendrobiums that would cost an arm and a leg in the west.

You hear "orkid," pronounced with a local accent and what comes to mind are sidewalk vendors, hawking them for as low as 10 pesos each (okay, so that's in Davao City). Say "orchid" with an American accent, no, make it "o-khid" in the Queen's English, and you think of expensive greenhouse varieties. "Slipper orchids" evoke the sultry and sensual, while Paphiopedilum, its scientific genus name, makes these orchids sound almost grand, the object of some National Geographic expedition.

I know that humans tend to want things that are exotic so we crave for temperate climate plants while westerners will build entire greenhouses to grow orchids and palms and other tropical plants that we hardly notice, or that may not even have names.

Lately, our plant dealers have started attaching name labels to their plants, sometimes with foreign-sounding names. As far as I'm concerned, that's fine if it'll help promote an appreciation of tropical plants.

Plain old sampaguita sounds a bit less ordinary when you use "jasmine," yes, the very same jasmine you find in the tea. Permit me one quick digression as I point out that connoisseurs scoff at jasmine tea, which is inferior tea leaves with the scent of dried jasmine buds used to distract mask the tea's low quality. But "jasmine tea" appeals, especially to westerners, because of clever marketing, jasmine flowers and Chinese tea playing on notions of the mysterious Orient.

Back to the flowers, the other day one plant dealer was trying to sell me star jasmine and Nicaraguan jasmine, but sometimes far-away names make me nervous because I have doubts about their survival. I imagined myself having to read it revolutionary Sandinista poetry to get Nicaraguan jasmine to thrive. My "suki" (favored) plant dealer, always quick to sense when my mind gallops off, assured me that these plants, notwithstanding their names, were as hardy as our own sampaguita.

Meanwhile, the dealer next door was tempting me with his Rangoon creeper. Five "lang," he offered. Jumping jasmines, I thought, 500 pesos? The plant, as its name goes, has swarmed all over the walls at my parents' place, and I was imagining Ninoy Aquino bills fluttering from their vines.

My parents' Rangoon creepers come from seeds I brought back from Bicol many years ago, while researching on medicinal plants. The plant is common in rural areas, its seeds used as a dewormer, and their coconut-like flavor giving them their name niyog-niyogan (coconut). City people don't use the plants for deworming; what's attractive are their flowers, which exude a faint but pleasant scent when night falls.

The Rangoon creepers go well with the bougainvillea, another tropical plant westerners would die for. Again, "bongobilya" makes it sound pedestrian, unless you become creative and describe the varieties, as horticultural magazines do, by their colors: lavender, salmon, orange fiesta, hot magenta.

We talk of flores de Mayo because the summer heat, with afternoon rains, bring out one of the most spectacular of nature's shows, with bougainvillea leading the way. No wonder it has a scientific name of Bougainvillea spectabilis. Do take advantage of the flores de Mayo to get out of the house and learn to identify the plants by their local and "imported" names.

Those no-name wild lilies by the roadside that come alive each summer with paired flowers are orange lirios. A distant relative of orange lirios are the cebollitas (literally, little onions) which bloom all year round with petite rose or white flowers. They're also called rain lilies. There's an amazing variety of wild lilies out. I found a plant growing out of a discarded plastic trash can, and when I looked up the plant in a botany book it turned out it was called Madonna lily, as well as Amazon lily.

Gumamela, a common roadside plant with many varieties and colors, sounds almost like they come from an English country garden when you call them hibiscus. Still another plant that does well on its own is tsitsirika, but plant dealers now offer them as "Vinca," the scientific name. My medical students are always amazed to learn these plants are the source of the anti-leukemia drug vincristine.

Walk down Palma Hall's corridors at UP, past trees with pink and white flowers, and you can smell the English name of kalatsutsi: frangipani. I always warn the students not to use kalatsutsi to court someone because Filipinos associate them with funerals. Stick to orchids, but be warned: the flowers' name is derived from the Greek orchis, which means balls, and I don't mean the ones you dribble.

The UP campus also has rows of splendid trees with red and orange flowers, with dynamic Spanish names: "caballero" (a young man, with connotations of showmanship) or "arbol de fuego" (fire trees). Spanish names are always so evocative: think of the "bandera Espanola, corazon de amor, cadena de amor." All those are again common wild plants.

I could go and on, but I think you get my point. We need to better appreciate plants that have been with us for centuries, many introduced by our Asian neighbors, or from central America through the galleon trade. Each plant carries a potential lesson in history and folklore, waiting to be retold and passed on.

Many ritzy hotels, resorts and restaurants are discovering the beauty of tropical plants and using them for interior decor: tsitsirika flowers in a silver bowl of water, for example, or a solitary cattleya orchid in a crystal vase.

When I hear guests oohing and aahing over the flower arrangements while dining on their hibiscus salads and lemongrass with fragrant screwpine tea (translation: "tanglad and pandan"), I wonder if, driving in, they noticed these plants growing free and wild by the roadside.

Ron's Barking Up the Right Tree

Before reading the rest of this blog, kindly first click this link and view all the marvelous shots of tree barks collected by a fellow Webshots member, Ron of Oregon Coast. From his profile, I inferred he is a forester - a retired one, I think. He's a remarkable man!

http://outdoors.webshots.com/album/273729503GDBDkl?start=0

Ron of Oregon Coast said:

For the album “Barking Up the Right Tree”, where did I get my ages? Measurements are done with increment borers (age) and clinometers (height). A 36” increment borer was our standard in my job, couldn't bore a tree larger than 36” in diameter. The tree is bored in the center of the bole, four and one half feet above the ground or what they call DBH (diameter base height), as straight in as possible; the wood brought out by the borer should reach the center of the tree or a little beyond it in order to make sure we reached the center, all wood rings were counted, the bark was not. Boring hardwood is nasty business - its quite tough to bore a maple, because the wood is so gnarly and tight; a Yew and a Myrtlewood, because the grain is so tight, madrone and manzanita because there is hardly any water in its cells and is tough to start without bark. To get down to a question you might have, how do I know the ages of the trees? I'm taking diameter and height and using the above information in order to find its age. I wondered how long it would take someone to ask. I thank someone for the question. Ron/Oregon Coast

Webshots page of Ron: rboise

Now here’s my comment which I posted in his splendid album:

I am amazed by the diversity in age and kind of trees you have in your continent. And how fortunate these trees are to have them documented & brought to our consciousness by one who truly loves them. It's as if you've provided each of them a birth certificate & ID card of sorts. My deepest admiration and thanks to you, Ron! May you and your kind truly flourish! Mary Ann

Kelley's Work of Art - Leaves

I have just come from a Webshots album of a member named Kelly. She has an impressive display of leaf collection. Anyway, I want to share with you what I told her. Here goes ...

"You hit it on the nail, Kelly, when you noted that I seemed to like taking pictures of leaves. There is no end to the wondrous designs, colors and textures you get from this subject. Flowers are ok but they seem overused, overexposed, so to speak. Above all, it's so obvious. The greater challenge is to find beauty where it's hidden, underexposed, or least expected. And when anybody is able to bring that out in a spectacular way, pure satisfaction - personal or bestowed - is its own reward. By your invitation, I just came from your leaf collection. "Ang galing mo!" That means "You're sooo good!" - in Filipino. You've captured the glorious designs, the vibrant colors and color blends, and even the intricate, delicate textures of the coleus plant. My goodness, you have just curated a portion of the works of our Creator, our God in a magnificent way! Thank you for inviting me to your leaf collection. I hope to do one myself someday, if you don't mind if I copy your style?"

Please check out Kelly's leaf collection: http://outdoors.webshots.com/album/552665392srxKdy

Photography Pays Off

Last Saturday, Nov 25, 2006, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an email notice from WEBSHOTS (a photo-sharing website) that my album about San Pablo's Spanish Coconut Plantation (Villa Escudero) was being featured (along with 2 other albums from other members) in Webshots' homepage. Then they also gave me 2 electronic badges which I'm suppose to attach this to my personal blog, website or email signature. I haven't gotten around to doing this yet. I'm not sure if I want to do this at all though.

Anyway, just when I was ruminating about the effect of this so-called honor, my email's inbox started to bloat with mails - all coming from fellow Webshots members who congratulated me. All 50 emails from members in a span of 1 day. From where? Greece, Belgium, Australia, Italy, France, England, Israel, South Africa, Canada, India, Switzerland and USA where I got a lot from various states. I just couldn't believe it! But suddenly, I felt compelled to respond to ALL of them. It took me the whole day of Sunday just to respond to them all. (Sorry, Lord, I missed going to worship.) I really felt obligated to respond and thank those who took the time to write me, to encourage me.

Well, that's about it! My 1-day moment of virtual fame. Yeah, it felt good really. Thanks Webshots for the honor and the community's support. But most of all, thank you, Lord! You made possible my eyes, the cash to buy my camera, and the skill to click that darn box's shutter button!
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Try visiting my album via this link: http://community.webshots.com/album/550883688xcaDGP

Forgiving Yourself

Let me share you a very painful experience I had as a nurse:

Way back in the mid-1970s, I left my nursing career at the Philippine Heart Center. There were a few reasons why I left, and this incident was one of them.

I've had about 2 patients I cared for as a nurse who died under my watch. But the last one was a bit traumatic since I felt I could have saved that patient had I responded immediately to his service call (the ward was full at the time). When I finally answered his buzzer, he was already unconscious, so I called Code Blue over the hospital's PA system. CPR (cardio-pulmonary resuscitation) didn't revive him. He died in the elevator as we were doing CPR & wheeling him to the medical ICU.

Days before, he was a patient who complained a lot - petty and minor things, which was why I sort of ignored his initial calls that night he died. Since then and for a very long time, I never forgave myself. But then, with the help of Christian friends and especially my husband who was very supportive, I yielded my guilt and shame to Jesus - and I was delivered from that awful load.

May the promise of Philippians 4:13 (I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me" ) and Psalm 130 bring you ever closer to Jesus and find true forgiveness and peace - as I had. God bless.