Author Archives: hafong

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About hafong

Hello! My name is (Leung) Hafong alias Lily Leung. You always say the last name first….that is the Chinese way. That is my partner lurking behind me. Since this is my blog, I won’t mention his name. But this is a rather cool picture. You see me and yet you don’t…sort of the way I feel about myself most of my life. So this blog is a self-exploration, an archeology dig of some sort. My tools…..words of a thousand or so at a sitting. I will try for that.

ALMOST PERFECT

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A beautiful day, no smoke, sunshine and not too hot or cool. It is almost perfect. Even the Wifi is working out on the deck. Perfect except I’m a bit out of kilter. I felt it coming on yesterday. It’s not what I call my moody blues. They’re restful. This is not. I’m restless, aggitated, neurotic, fretting inside. I put the energy to use – loading up and starting the dishwasher, sweeping up the floor and putting the dirty cleaning stuff in the washer. I’ve bagged up the dried goiji berry leaves, clearing space on the deck table for me and the laptop. I’m pecking away my nervous energy.

My perfect moment on the deck is interrupted by the start up of my neighbour- from-hell’s lawnmower. She has an uncanny knack of know when I’m out on the deck and would bring out the noise machine. But never mind. I’m sipping a cup of decaf with a bit of CBD oil in it. I got it to help with my anxiety and stress when my mother had shingles. I don’t think it did much. I was in recent correspondence with a friend who found it helpful with his pain and sleeping. I thought I would give it another try. I’m still on my first and only bottle. I haven’t tried it very much. I’m hoping I can be as relaxed as the bunny I found in our potato patch today. He’s still there. I think he’s adopted us.

I think the CBD oil is working. I feel less edgy but just the same, I shall pack up and move inside away from the noise. I’m ok letting her think she got the best of me. I’m ready to put up my feet with another cuppa (without the CBD) and a muffin and watch Vera on YouTube. British murder mystery also soothes my nerves.

NO QUICK AND EASY

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A clear day with no smoke but started cool at 3℃. And it’s ending on the cool side. I had to put on a jacket to have a walk about in the garden just now. Even so, I felt chilled. It’s never just a walk about. I ended up harvesting a whole pile of tomatoes. Can I say I’m tired of so much harvest? I am grateful for our bounty but it is getting ridiculous and I am getting exhausted. I know I will appreciate all that is in our larder in the middle of winter.

I did not have time to read any pages in The Good Earth. I feel very much like the Chinese farmer, Wang Lung and his wife, working from sunrise to sunset. This morning I stripped some of the dried herbs – basil and oregano. It took some work and time. I’ve learned not to begrudge the price of store bought ones. Then it was time to think about making soup with the leftover chicken and carcass. I went out to the garden to harvest some veggies for it. Somehow it’s never an easy and quick trip. Almost an hour gone. Then there’s the washing and chopping before I can throw everything into the Instant Pot. There’s no instant about making a meal. It is not quick and easy.

By the time everything is chucked into the pot, the lid put on and the manual button is pushed, I’m sure I’ve screamed a thousand times in my mind. At those moments I understood my mother’s complaints of fatigue/pain. She is 92. I’m not so I thought I better just buckle up. It is good that I can relate/understand where she’s at, what she can and cannot do at this stage. She is still remarkable and independent. She knows her body/strength and she can figure out alternatives for what she can’t do. She sets a good example for me.

It is day’s end. The dining room table is looking messier yet. I shan’t worry about it. There’s a few more things dropped on it. 3 jars of sauerkraut are fermenting. 4 more days before they’re ready. I did bagged up the pumpkin muffins cooling on the rack. They are put away in the fridge and freezer. I’m calling it a night. Time for a shower and some stretches. This old body hurts.

THE GOOD EARTH

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Funny how some things pop into your life. The other day, someone mentioned she read Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth. I am reminded that I do have it on my bookshelf and I have read it. But I cannot remember any of it. Then this morning, there’s an article about Pearl S. Buck on my Facebook feed. It was very interesting. It prompted me to search for the book. And I did find it, a little paperback costing $.95 published in 1973. It’s still in very good condition though the pages are yellow and the print small. It is a book that I had borrowed from a friend while I was visiting her in Vancouver many years ago. I’ve not returned it nor have read it, as I now discovered.

I don’t know why I hadn’t read it. It is quite good. I’ve read 5 chapters this morning. It reminded me of the China I knew. I am surprised that I remembered so much, having left when I was 6 years old. I felt quite at home in the story of the poor farmer, his wife and his father. I felt I was there with them, though we were not the poor farmers. I guess we were considered well off if not rich. We had this big house that my grandfather had built. It had 2 stories with a copula on top. It housed our family on one side and the other half was occupied by my grandfather’s brother’s family. The windows had metal shutters. The front door was also of metal. Our house had a courtyard surrounded by a wall.

Looking at the photo and the memories, it feel like it was someone else’s life. It also made me feel nostalgic and lonesome for that Chinese part of me that was left behind. Anyways, it is too late in the day to ponder and wander through the past. Perhaps I will have more time tomorrow. I feel very busy at this end of life. Time seems to tick slower when I was young. Now it’s speeding faster and faster like the end of a toilet roll.

THE EASIEST THINGS

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I awoke to a very cloudy/smoky morning, much worse than yesterday. Checking the air quality index, it is 11. It would be easy to go into my moody blues and stay there. I do not. Why? Because it doesn’t feel good. I don’t like suffering. I am feeling a little dumpy and lumpy. I am not jumping up and down with glee. I carry on the routine of the morning – mixing up dough for our Sunday sourdough pancakes. Too bad we don’t have any more bacon or breakfast sausages to go with them.

Now at 9 am, the sun is fighting its way through the smoke. It’s shine is a bit eery. It evokes a feeling that these are the last hours of our earth. Cheery, aren’t I? I am somewhat comforted by my walk through the greenhouse and garden. I love seeing the dangling bitter melons, hanging on by a thread. Mornings, the greenhouse is suffused with the sweet scent of their flowers. At long last, I see tiny baby cantaloups forming. I helped by hand pollination. I guess they still have time to grow, being in the greenhouse. Their mates are doing much better in the outside garden. They are almost ready to be picked.

It would be easy to be complacent, to sleep in with covers over my head, to not care. But it is just as easy to care, to get up, dress up and show up to life. It is never too late as I have learned through gardening. You might not get the best results but you do get something late as you are. Below is a photo of my bed of potatoes and beans sown in late July. We had harvested the garlic from it. Instead of just leaving it empty, I put in half a bed of beans and the other half in potatoes. The beans are flowering and the potato plants are big though not yet in blooms.

Writing this post was the easiest thing. I just sat down and my fingers talked. Nothing profound, just feelings of the moment – another Sunday morning coming down.

THE HARDEST THINGS

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The hardest thing for me to do is to start. After that, it is finishing to the very end, to the cleaning up and putting away. The dining room table then ends up being the catch-all for everything.Right now it has a stack of dehydrator trays, a container of dried Swedish beans, some empty containers, a bowl of Big Beef tomatoes, a sketch pad, my reading glasses, a couple of face masks, a paper plate with a huge Brandy Wine tomato, my little change purse, printed recipe for Instant Pot Steamed Buns, my watercolour index card art from the DYICAD Challenge, a plate of basil leaves drying, a few packs of seeds….Then there is my laptop and my fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Why I am like this is beyond me. I guess it is my natural self. Maybe I need to live with it and not try to force myself into what I am not. I’m no slouch. I got another small pot of tomatoes saucing on the stove. It will be the 21st quart. This morning I washed the bag of goji berry leaves my mother gave me. They are air drying on trays on the deck. Life is full of things to do. I try not to get/feel overwhelm with this year’s huge harvest. Everything yielded BIG. That is everything except the Fava Beans. They were a total bust, empty pods whereas the regular beans were coming out of our ears. Not sure if I want to try them again next year. I should let go of things not working for me. I need to use my energy wisely and not waste it. So no Fava Beans next year.

Ok, what else can I let go of? Yesterday, I finally pour the rest of clamato juice down the drain. I hate waste but I wasn’t loving it. Sometimes it is ok to waste. It’s loving myself. I am still a bit grouchy. The air wasn’t as smoky this morning. We had sun but now the smoke is back. It feels like the earth is burning. I guess it is. Another day of writing from the front line. 🙂

SEPTEMBER

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Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

The first day of September. It’s not evoking the feeling of starting anew like it has in the past. I guess I’m long past the time of the first days of school. No excitement of seeing friends I haven’t seen over the summer. No excitement of the first year on the university campus, finding my way to the Arts, Chemistry, Biology and other Buildings, then the lecture rooms. Now, I don’t feel the excitement of the first day of anything. It’s no way to start a day.

So, I am thinking up of ways of remedying it, cheering myself up and along. I put in a clean pair of socks in my gym bag. Beyond that I couldn’t think of anything else. I did have a good workout at the gym. I used heavier weights doing the farmer’s carry and was pleasantly surprised to find that the heavier weights felt better. Now at day’s end, I am feeling irritable but containing it, not letting it spill out. I think that it is good enough. I will not try to cheer myself up or along. Sometimes you just have to let everything go. Not try so hard but just let it be.

The day has been hot and heavy. The air is smoky from wildfires, making opened windows not a good idea. The furnace fan is adequate for some air movement, calming my bad mood. Nothing is pleasing me at this moment. It doesn’t make staying in the now a good idea. I shall move on and put a few things away. Tomorrow is another day.

THE LAST OF AUGUST

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This last day of August finds me at the keyboard again. I have a small pot of tomatoes simmering on the stove. I hope to make another quart of sauce to add to the 20 in the freezer. It is cloudy and drizzly. Any rain any time is welcomed. It is a valuable and scarce commodity nowadays for us on the prairies. It brings a bit of wetness to the dry earth. I can hear it sigh with relief. The plants drink it in, their leaves unfurling as their thirst is slaked. I feel myself loosening up, the tension leaving my body. It is a good day to drink tea, read a few pages and write a few sentences.

The day has sped by. It does that when I sloth around in my pjs till noon. I did get some reading done but not too many words written. I am inspired byNatalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. But still I got stuck, then distracted. And time ticked away. Now I am back at the keyboard. It’s hard to pick up where I had left off. Meanwhile, I’m simmering my second pot of tomatoes as the first one did not fill a quart jar. I kind of left it simmering too long. It got very thick and a little too well done. I shall pay more attention with the present one on the stove.

The way is never easy or smooth, no matter the intention, no matter what it is that you are doing. There’s wrinkles, hiccoughs and delays. I think I’m ok with stuttering, hiccoughing as long as I am not stuck and inert in some deep dark hole. I’ve been there too many times. Now I’m done with it. I’ve climbed out and ready to walk away. Burnt tomato sauce is better than no tomato sauce.

I’m savouring the aroma of tomatoes saucing, the last bit of August. We enjoyed the Blue August Moon last evening before going to bed. It was wondrous and awesome. Life is ok.

PRACTICING

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The second day of the rest of my life finds me here at my keyboard. I’m practicing what I’ve been talking about doing – writing daily. I try not to think too hard and fast and just write from what pops into my head. My head is multi-tasking this morning. It is skipping from one thought to another. It makes it hard to sit and stay here. I had to get up from time to time, do a little of this and a little of that. There’s a pot of little cherry tomatoes simmering on the stove. I’ve paid the bills online. I made a cup of tea and had a walk in the back and front yard gardens. I’m feeling a little more settled.

I’ve discovered that the Sweet One Million cherry tomatoes make excellent tomato sauce. I am sure I have about a million of them. I’ve been giving them away but they keep producing, ripening and piling up on the dining room table. They’re good attraction for those damn fruit flies when they get over ripe. That’s how they ended up in the pot this morning. There’s only so many I can put in salads or just pop into my mouth. I’ve also discovered it is much less labour intensive cooking up a small batch of sauce at a time. Smaller batch, smaller pot, smaller cleanup. I am a happy camper.

Small anything and everything is good when I am starting up. A small practice every day will get better. That small can get bigger with practice. There’s no right or wrong way, no good or bad time. It just have to work for you. And you find what works or doesn’t work by doing. I’m not looking for magic nor am I trying to write a great novel. I love the tap, tap of the keyboard. I rather tap out all the mess that’s circling in my head onto the screen. I’m just trying to stay sane.


A PRACTICE

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It’s 4 o’clock in the afternoon. It’s hot out at 32℃. I’m cranky. It’s not a good time to start anything but here I am doing it anyways. If I wait for an optimal time, I would not get anything done. Yesterday I harvested herbs (basil, oragano and thyme) to dry at high noon when it was the hottest. That and being late August with mature plant growth does not make for the best harvest to dry either. But it is the time when I’m moved to do it. And that makes it the best time for me.

Right now, in my grouchy sweaty mood, I’m moved to start a daily practice of writing – again. I’m inspired by Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. When inspiration and perspiration hit, I must act, if not immediately, soon. I should have started this morning but I had another daily practice of going to the garden(s) and harvesting. It’s hard to juggle everything. I had to choose the best time for each. Morning would be optimal to be working outside on a hot day. I can write afternoons in the cool of the house.

So why am I torturing myself this way? For one thing, I do love words and writing. It has been my way of staying sane, sorting out the chaos in my head. It is a physical act as well as mental. It is stress relieving. The rhythmic tapping soothes and smooths the kinks in my mind. It is also good discipline. I’m heeding Goldberg’s advice of not overthinking, over editing, censoring. I will let it all out – within reason and good taste, of course. This is another first day of the rest of my life.

STARTING OVER

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It feels like I’ve been in a slump forever now. I remember a time when I was impatient to get to sleep at night. I was eager to wake up to another spanking, sparkling new day. I want that feeling back but it is hard to come by. It’s not that I lack things to do. I always have many interests and many things to do. Now they don’t spark the joy that Marie Kondo likes to talk about. So what to do? Say goodbye to them?

I think about starting over, changing things, changing myself every day. But where and when to start? That’s a stumper. I’m stuck before I could begin. Then I think, I’ll start tomorrow. That’s how it is again today. I do get fed up with myself eventually. Shame does nudge and push me. Dissatisfaction is the greatest motivator for me. I just wish that I could spend less time in the wasteland of inertia. I wish I could be more decisive quicker. But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

At least I am plunking down a few words bit by bit here today. I’m making an effort. I am doing the best I can. I have to be satisfied with that. Though I feel heavy, ploddy and not exactly full of joy, I don’t think I appear so. I am not sitting on my duff. I am holding up my end of being alive. I get up, dress up and show up no matter what. Anything extra is heroic, don’t you think?

I will think of doing some extra heroic stuff daily. They don’t have to be big but they can be. I defrosted, cleaned and organized the chest and stand up freezers yesterday. That’s very big for me. Writing this post is fairly big. I’m trying to wake up my brain. It’s been in a fog for too long.

Postscript: I wrote the above a few days ago. I think I’m over my slumpy mood – for now anyways. I feel a bit of a spring in my steps. The sun and heat might have helped. And to think I was not a fan of heat before. Things can change. Anything is possible.