Nadine and our 40-year old indian mango tree

Time flies so fast. It really seems just like yesterday when as kids we used to frolic in these very familiar surroundings. Every tree was known to us and the time of fruit-bearing was greatly anticipated. Mangoes, guavas, camachile, duhat, and tamarind were regular fare. We knew like the palms of our hands every nook and cranny, even where the birds wove their nests and regaled us with their birdsongs and multi-colored eggs, which we poached once in awhile. We were one with nature, albeit with the characteristic "amoy-araw" after a day's rambling through thickets and rocks, cogonal patches and rivulets, where the trickling of clear water was a familiar and soothing sound. We collected flowers and leaves, seeds, fruits, mushrooms and marveled at nature's rich diversity. Spiders, snails, cocoons, butterflies, colorful birds, fish, damselflies and dragonflies, crickets and beetles were a regular treat. Occasional encounters with wasps and ants and the inevitable wheals they made were considered a normal part of such pulses of activity. At night when we moved about in gasera-lit rooms, a peek through the windows would reveal steady lights from distant houses and flickering stars and fireflies. Under one mosquito net we dreamt after recounting the day's misadventures amidst the incessant croaking of frogs and soporific hum of cicadas...