My Earth Day, Our Green Home, and Narra's Treehouse

Narra's treehouse, smothered by greens.

In celebration of Earth Day, I took photos of my parents' garden and thanked them for having such a green home. Whenever I come over for a visit, I feel like breathing in, deep nourishing life-giving breaths.  My parents' garden is overwhelmed by plants... perhaps a little too much to suit most people, but just right for earth-loving people like myself. One is FORCED to touch, or be touched by plants in this home. Upon entering the gates, hanging vines descend onto the foot path, so one has to swipe away at the roots of the air plants. Not everyone likes the feel of cool tendrils on their skin, but we are unapologetic about the "discomfort" we put guests through. In a world of manufactured things, it's good to be tickled by something natural and alive.

The vine-covered handrails on the steps leading to the house's main door.

Even the handrail on the steps leading up to the main door is smothered with leaves. We tried to trim them bare, many times over. But nature will not be held back for too long, it keeps finding a way, and we decided to relinquish control.  My parents garden feels as though plants have taken over, and overstepped their limits (to our delight!) Potted plants outgrew their small containers, and once transfered to the ground, flourished in gigantic proportions. Shrubs and trees dominate the skyline, so much so that anyone seated from the living room looking out, can only see a green expanse.  

From the front door: a view of the garden above the garage.

I am having a hard time deciding if it is by design or by accident, that the garden came to be like this.  It is by design that space was saved for plants; by design that vines and shrubs, and trees were planted; but it is by nature's hand that the vines planted in the front, found their way to the back of the house - enveloping the building in its green embrace; that shrubs on the ground, found their way to the roof; providing privacy, shade, and security (I feel sorry for burglars who will have to deal with the thorny bush). Perhaps it is also with my parents' coaxing, that vines that come to the windows seeking invitation to enter the house, are gently re-directed to an outdoor foothold.  I swear, while typing away on the computer, which sits next to a second-floor window, vines knocked on the glass, as if asking me to let them in, to take shelter from the wind. Another time, I was breast-feeding my son in privacy in what was my old room in the house, and I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was peeking through the window. True enough, a vine magically made its way through a tiny opening on the sliding glass window; and peeked through the gap between the drawn curtains, as though waving at me (if I imagined the leaf as a hand) or even staring at me! (if I imagined it to be a head). I was spooked for a moment, then I stood up, said hello by giving the leaf a gentle pat, and set the vine free - bringing it back into the wide open.  Grow, dearie! 

Narra's child-height handrail, for climbing up her treehouse.

Out on the garden, my parents gave Narra a precious gift. A treehouse! The type I dreamt about as a little kid. Made of yakal, a Philippine hard wood species that fares well outdoors, the tree house is sturdy and strong. We call it Narra's treehouse, but really, it is for all of us...a place where we can all be children again.  Here, my senior citizen of a father is Peter Pan, light on his feet and flipping in the air (at least that's how I see him in my mind's eye); My mother is her own kind of Tinkerbell, with her special pixie dust, which makes everything work, as though by magic.  It's a tall treehouse, and takes some effort to climb. But once up there, aaaaah. It feels like being in a private other world, far from Metro Manila. We could be anywhere, really. If C.S. Lewis' wardrobe led to Narnia; who knows where this tree house leads?! What could be beyond the leaves? We could be anywhere!

Nature's own way of welcoming guests to the tree house.

The most important gift of all, even more than the tree house itself, is the gift of story-telling and conversation.  I am happy that Narra never gets bored, up in the treehouse. No Ipad, no toys and games, no coloring book and crayons, no candies, or stickers, or any other thing designed to entertain children these days.  Just a tree, with everything it has to offer: Fruits to pick! Limbs to swing on! Birds to watch! And a lot of shade, conducive for telling tales and exchanging thoughts.  These summer months, the tree is heavy with fruit, all made within reach, even for my three year old.  So she grabbed her stash of green mangoes, and jumped up and down in excitement as she saw it being cut into bite-sized chips - which she savored eating, and passing around to anyone who'd listen to her tale of conquering the tree to secure the prized fruit.  I rejoice at the thought that junk food loses to fresh fruit in vying for my daughter's attention, at least when it is fruit-bearing season.  

A clump of plump mangoes well within reach.

It was a good way to spend Earth Day. By partaking of the feast mother nature provides in abundance. By enjoying an afternoon without relying on electricity, or packaged food, or manufactured goods. It was a very hot day, but instead of holing up indoors in air-conditioned comfort, we sat in the breeze, and stayed in the shade. My sis tells me: it's a good thing you raise your kids to survive well in a tropical country. Haha. She was referring to how sweaty my kids were, and how I didn't run to the nearest electric fan, or aircon vent, to get them cool. I just let them be. Be the sweaty, active kids in summer who climb trees.  At sundown, I ask them to come inside, and leave the garden in peace. I bathe them, and change them, and we have a good conversation over dinner. My parents are eloquent speakers, and I become a kid again, listening in awe, when my father tells a story, even those I've heard before. But alas, we are just visiting, and it is time to leave. Walking out of the house, I stop in my tracks, I see light flickering - and no - it's not the lights leftover from Christmas.  It's fireflies. Magical, hypnotic, inspiring fireflies that fill me with hope. It is said that they survive only in clean environments, where the air is pure. They are here. Dead smack in the middle of the city, a stone's throw away from carbon-belching SLEX.  My parents have done it!  They've reclaimed a piece of the city, and given it back to Mother Earth, and she repays them with a visit from her sparkling little envoys - her ambassadors of hope: the fireflies.  They are found all over the garden, even in Narra's treehouse where the leaves are thick.  What a precious, awesome gift from my parents. My dad Walter, my mom Sonia, and the one parent I share with everyone else, my Pacha Mama, our Mother Earth.