A New Season Awaits

There’s nothing more humbling than a warm bowl of homemade butternut squash soup and some crusty sourdough bread. Oh wait, there is! If that butternut squash came from your garden and the sourdough bread is from your own starter. I had this such experience the other night with my Roua baby; well, I suppose she is technically a toddler now?!??? But, in any case, I still love calling her my Roua baby. 

Papa was away working with the bees in the Lavender fields. Sometimes, like that night, he camps over so he can get work done over two days, checking on our other daughters and their Mamas and the brood babies. So, it was just Roua and I, like many times over the summer actually, just the two of us, well, technically, it was the three of us. 

Yes, three! Roua and I and baby in my belly enjoyed our first butternut squash soup of the season. I am 29 weeks pregnant, just into the beginning of my 3^rd trimester. Baby was just as happy with the soup I suppose, as I felt little kicks, between sips of smooth soup (thanks to my new blender toy Jorris gifted us as a 3^rd wedding anniversary present) and bites of toasted seeded-sourdough bread slathered with butter. I’ve been experimenting with adding seeds again to my breads and this particular combination of pumpkin, flax and poppy seeds is especially wholesome and fragrantly delicious. I think it’s mostly the pumpkin seeds being toasted that add such flavor. Roua mimicked me as I dunked my bread into the soup before a bite. Of course we saved a bowl for Papa. 

The earth has been good to us and offered a beautiful bounty of pumpkins and butternut, corn, tomatoes, courgette, zinnias, cosmos and sunflowers...my favorite were the success of the sunflowers this year (thanks Sophie!). It was a small garden. We kept it simple; mostly because I could only do so much with my growing belly and a toddler to care for, but we enjoyed so much of our garden and thank her for all the food and lessons she has provided us. 

 

The sunflowers, who I had transplanted as baby plants which I got from my friend Sophie, struggled in the beginning, but my oh my have they established themselves and bloomed in such glory. They have been my greatest teacher this summer. I had planted them around June and patiently waited until September, watering and caring for them until they got tall and I could see little yellow petals peeking out of the green bud. I remained patient. Some moments I felt they would never bloom, but deep down I knew better. Mother Nature knows better. Then, the first bloom appeared on a day when I was having a hard time. I didn’t expect it at all and just happened to wander into the garden and the moment I saw that sunflower just magically like that, bright and yellow, I was reminded to cheer up and stay hopeful, that there is always beauty brewing and bountiful, we just have to be patient and believe. 

 

Despite the small size of our garden, I had never planted and gardened with such intention and thoughtfulness into where and what I planted. It was a giant milestone of an experience, a maturation as a gardener, I suppose. I envisioned how the white cosmos would grow in community next to the zinnias and why I wanted to plant it where I did, sort of at the entrance of the garden as to be inviting. And it turned out to be just that and this one plant of white zinnias has taken off and added such beauty to our land. Their purity and positive energy make me happy each time I enter the garden, and Roua adores them too, as she does all flowers and the butterflies who visit them. And of course, the garden plans herself as well and Mother Nature crafts gorgeous pockets of flowers and vegetables that I could have never imagined on my own. 

We also got chickens this summer! They have been such a delight. We have four for now and they are well-behaved and gift us their most delicious eggs for omelets, mayo, red fried rice, and pancakes, just to name a few delicious things we make with them. We got them from our neighbors Lolita and Dorian. They were their favorites but they didn’t want to mix them with the other new flock, so after careful consideration, offered us to be their new family and we gratefully accepted. The chicken house mansion, which my beau pere (father-in-law) built last year, is now put to use! We now have a chicken house with chickens! I love watching Roua interact with them. She helps me feed them food scraps and is about their size so it’s adorable to watch her waddle around and try to pet them. 

This week actually she has been successful at gently caressing one of the brown ones and the chicken stopped moving and spread her wings and Roua petted her so sweetly with her fingers spread wide and palm stroking the soft feathers. She managed to do it again another day and that time, laid her head gently on the chicken’s body. It was the sweetest thing to witness, my baby being so kind and sweet to another being. I had a proud parent moment. 

The bees have been good to us this season. They have made a lot of honey and we are so thankful. It’s been an intense period of juggling work and family life and couple life; but it’s September, fall is approaching and life is slowing down a bit so we can spend more time together. 

Still some preparations before baby arrives, and hopefully a little family holiday before then. I can’t wait to see Roua as a big sister. She’ll be amazing. She already blows baby raspberry kisses on my belly and gently pets my belly when she notices it. It’ll be so tender to see Jorris as Papa to a newborn again and for us to have a cozy winter together, nestled by our woodstove with homemade crusty sourdough bread and soup. Until then, I can patiently wait and savor this pregnancy, especially each little kick and wiggle I feel inside this abundantly amazing belly and body I am so honored to embody.

Cheers to you, thank you for being here, and may a new fall season invite you too to slow down and enjoy your family!

 

9 Months In & 9 Months Out

 

Roua is 9 months old

Easter is tomorrow and yesterday we celebrated Roua's 9 month birthday, neuf moisiversaire we say in French. We took a drive to the city in my little saxo that could and went to a beautiful children's book store, full of gorgeous books and toys. It was very classic and old-worldy, with only the best illustrated books and toys, hand-selected for sure. To me it was like an art museum. Roua enjoyed gazing around at all the pretty colors and pictures as I carried her in the baby carrier. Of course, Oma spoiled Roua and her friends. I think Oma might have had more fun than any of us. It was endearing to see her excitement at all the books and toys. The parking was tough, but we managed to squeeze onto the end of the street just before the crosswalk. It was so worth it. Despite being in yet another covid lockdown here in France, we are managing to find ways to enjoy life, no restaurants but why not bookstores. 

After that it was a stop at Satoriz, our organic local food store, where we loaded up on bulk foods which we had been running low on. It felt good to replenish our food pantry. As head chef of the household, I always feel I can cook at my best with a full pantry. Roua swooned everyone in the store of course, and delighted in playing with the carrot tops protruding out of the basket cart. So many people asked questions about her and everyone who saw her smiled. She beamed back, as usual. And I beamed from a far, as she was with her Oma. I'm really the lucky one here, though. 

June 24th, 2020

April 3rd, 2021

I can hardly believe it's been 9 months since I was pregnant and gave birth to my beautiful baby girl. Looking back on this picture last year which was taken 8 days before Roua was born and the photo we took today, I am filled with sheer awe at the miraculous and magical changes of life force which governs us all. 9 months ago I was reborn as well, into the role of Mother, a role which has been the most enriching and profound gift of my whole life. 

If life is a movie, which in my mind it is, this would be the best role to play of my entire career. What a beautifully, wild adventure it has been to learn how to be a Mother and to learn about my daughter, to watch her change by the day, and for us to learn to be a family. Some days I just want to press the pause button and hold her close, smell her soft semi-curly hair and just watch her sleep, cradled in my arms. Other days, I just want to sleep in myself and she waits patiently in between us, nudging us to wake. 

I am so proud of Roua already: her fierce and determined will-power (diaper changes are always a challenge), how her 4 teeth have popped through and barely any whining, how she is almost walking, not afraid to experiment, and how she crawls so quickly towards me with that sweet smile which melts my heart every morning, how gentle she is to other babies and how she plays with other kids with non-attachment and only her pure presence. I love how she makes raspy, gollum voice sounds, sometimes saying "mum mum" and they way she loves to eat my sourdough bread and just food in general. I love how she has to touch and explore everything, breaking it a part to understand and discover it. Her curiosity and fearlessness for the world empowers me and inspires me everyday. Roua, thank you for choosing me to be your Mama baby, I love to more than I'll ever be able to show you. Happy 9 month Birthday, my love!!

A Re-Cap

Happy Spring! We've been so busy living life, in our home, out in our garden....keeping up with it all and starting a season anew. Our second beekeeping season of Au Septieme Miel has begun and with that our garden. Oma, Roua's grandma, ma belle-mere (mother-in-law), is here with us from Holland and with her grace and love, I have the privilege of time for myself, shower, slow-drip Vietnamese coffee, yoga and writing this blog. Roua sleeps in her stroller in the garden as Oma works. I hear her singing songs in French to Roua and the clinking of the garden trowel against the rocky soil we have here. It's been on my mind for so long to write here. I miss being here at Garden Gallivanter. Finally, here I am with high spirits. So much has happened, and I've chosen to live mindfully with my fullest presence to my family, which is why I haven't been able to share here as I love to do. Do forgive me for the long absence. We are well and happy. I suppose I should just fill you in quickly, catch you up to speed with what life has been like these last few months, or at least draw a rough picture. While I haven't been writing here at Garden Gallivanter, I always write in my black notebook, so I thought I'd just write some entries here, bullet points really, and elaborate on some which I couldn't finish at that time. So here is a short re-cap:

December 19th, 2020  Los Angeles International Airport, Los Angeles, CA, USA

Made it to Los Angeles! So happy to be home! Embracing my Mom was the best feeling.

December 25th, 2020      Azusa, California, USA 

Today is Roua’s first Christmas! Merry Christmas from Azusa, CA. We are at Nene’s house. The Christmas tree sparkles day and night with greens, reds and blues...Roua loves staring at it. Chill day together. Kevin and Steven are with us and Grandpa Ma from Texas. My heart is so happy! 

December 30th, 2020     Royal Oak, Michigan, USA 

Roua stands up pulling herself up for the first time! She used Uncle Kevin and Steven’s coffee table! Jorris and I caught on camera the 2nd time. It was amazing. She is so strong!!! 

January 4th, 2021 Azusa, California, USA

Roua eats carrot puree for first time! Her first “solid” at Nene’s house! Sweet moment to share this “first” for Roua with my Mom. 

January 10th 2021      Los Angeles International Airport, Los Angeles, California, USA 

It happened in the same place exactly 1 year and 8 months ago where I said goodbye to my parents in a not so nice way, hurried off up the escalator to the zone non-ticketed people couldn’t travel to, not turning back for one last look and wave. Nope, I was too proud, tired, stubborn and stupid. The stress at the ticket counter over heavy bags and shifting weight around, yelling at my parents and the Norwegian Air desk woman, actually, more at my parents than at her which was so unfair....I had gone back to LA for not one but two Grandmothers’ funerals. It was intense. I kept strong for my grandmas, for my family, fighting through jet lag, emotions, etc, the passing of Grandpa Ma just a few months ago in February was still raw and I was still processing that on top of all this, so finally this was the catalyst of my pain and I broke, but wasn’t brave enough to take that pain on my own yet, so had to drag my parents down too when all they had been was loving and welcoming of me. Had I known the future that a pandemic would hit the world and soon our lives as we knew it would change so drastically and that I wouldn’t see them again until a year and a half later, I would have behaved so differently. 

Of course, how can we ever see these things until it’s too late. The biggest lessons in life are sometimes the most painful, often seen only through the lens of hindsight. This trip back home has healed so many wounds. Becoming a mother has made me so much more mature and understanding. I found little ways to make my Mom’s house more cozy and just took action, a rug here, some flowers there. Jorris and I found necessary projects around the house to help her with. We ate exquisite meals together, family-style, tastes of my childhood, each bite nourished my soul and brought me back to life again. My Mom was so sweet and cooked every waking moment and while she was cooking she was thinking of what to cook next! All while carrying Roua in the baby carrier and talking to her in Vietnamese. Oh the joy! This is where I had dreamed of being for so many months! I savour the moment. We squeezed a lot into 3 weeks. Spending time in LA, then flying to se my brother and brother-in-law’s new home in Michigan. It was Jorris’ first time to the mid-west, and of course Roua’s too. Roua was stellar on the plane rides, 6 total!! I was so proud of my girl. We had lots of boobie and she slept and played. Through those 3 weeks she had many firsts: starting purees, crawling, pulling herself up to stand with support of a table, two little bottom teeth popped through. We saw family in small visits to my Mom’s house where we were staying. With each of my aunts', uncles' and cousins' hugs I felt more and more reinvigorated. And introducing them to Roua was so fun and exciting for everyone. Going to book stores was soooo fun!! I got so many books for Roua and I, English books!!! So proud of how we really savoured each moment, Jorris, Roua and I....how Jorris and my Mom’s relationship healed and mine and my parents’ too. 

This time, at the same spot at LAX International Airport, the tears were of joy and gratitude for the beautiful time we got to spend together and all those hoops and barriers traveling during covid were worth it. I allowed myself to hold my Mom close and tight and cried. She cried too. And I felt a heaviness lift from my heart. We got onto the escalator to the zone where non-ticketed people are not allowed and this time Jorris and I and Roua turned to wave one more time at Nene before she walked away. My heart was happy and filled. I was re-energeized to do anything now, most of all, to be the best mom for Roua. At least one of my pains was healed so she wouldn’t have to bear it later. At least those tears I and I alone had shed. My Mom told me a saying in Vietnamese, “ Tears fall downwards”...we pass on our sadness and tramas to our children, this I thought as we sat in our seats on the plane ready for take off, at least Roua would be free of. And I felt proud of myself about it. I maintained my energy well throughout our trip, I felt, keeping things flowing well between everyone and it worked! Our intentions and thoughtfulness matter.

January 22nd/23rd, 2021   Wankdorf, Switzerland

Here for the weekend visiting Ton Ton (Uncle) Valentijn and Zia (Aunt)Benny! What a fun road trip! Roua did amazingly and slept most the drive with pit stops for eating and diaper changes...she had a few driving lessons herself...what gorgeous scenery on our road trip and the alps here are so grand and stunning. Will visit Tata Lisbeth in Alsace this weekend all together for lunch and Anne Sophie will be there! 

February 5th, 2021    St. Leger, France

Yesterday Jorris found our beloved Bodhi dead by the area of the honeyroom entrance. It was tragic. I was with Roua on the sofa when he told me. 

Bodhi looked beautiful and handsome, lying against the pole. He looked as if he were napping. We don't know how we died. He has no visual marks of injury. Perhaps a wild boar attacked him or a car hit him and he suffered from internal injuries? We were in Switzerland and our neighbors were keeping an eye on him. 

I cried. We buried him by the apiary here in St. Leger. Life is so fragile, every changing. Never will Bodhi pop through his cat door while I'm brushing my teeth, or lounge by the woodstove on the sofa curled beside us. 

Bodhi was kind, sweet, loving and brave. He liked Roua and was gentle with her even when she pulled on his fur. He will be missed so deeply. 

That evening, I had an appointment to talk with my best friend back in the states. I was tired from crying, just had dinner and had put Roua to bed, so was a little meh, but still made the effort to be there for the call and learned the wonderful news that she is pregnant! And, I jumped up form my slouching in elation and jubilation! 

Life is beautiful. Nature is balanced. 

March 9th, 2021    St. Leger, France

Roua receives her American passport in the mail after we had applied a few weeks ago at the US Consulate in Marseille! Now she has two passports and is officially a dual-citizen of France and the US. 

On that note...cheers to more adventures to come....

Roua

Roua with potimarrons from the garden.

I still can’t believe she’s real; nor can I believe that 2 months ago today we raced to the clinic and barely made it as I squeezed my legs together in the front seat of the car, whispering to my baby, “just wait a little longer please,”...she was so ready to come into this world but patiently waited and 10 minutes later I got to meet the most beautiful face I had ever seen. That’s the short version of our birth story. The longer and more detailed version to come, as believe it or not, I still feel like even 2 months later, I am still processing the whole thing. 

I’ve heard the days are long but the years go by fast. For us, the days go by so fast! So, if that saying is true, I must truly embrace every moment before the years pass by in a blink of an eye. Roua changes by the day. Never knew I could be capable of feeling such immense gratitude. We are so lucky. 

Everyday is so different and the same at the same time. I’m in awe of Roua. I’m in awe of what my body is capable of, creating a human, producing milk which nurtures her while still nurturing me in all the ways she does. The transformation is magnificent, more than magical, to watch and feel unfold. I am so honored to be granted this experience of Motherhood. 

Roua and the giant butternut from the garden, both nearly 4kg (8 pounds)! 

I have to admit it’s not always easy and not every moment do I feel so positive. In fact, I feel fatigued and frustrated some days, but those emotions are part of it all too. My life has completely changed, yet many things still remain the same, like baking sourdough bread (two baking as I write this!), or my yoga and meditation practice. They just look different. I thought I needed yoga and meditation most during pregnancy, but actually now I need it more than ever before. I’ve never felt so needed and important. Caring for a baby requires so much energy, both physically and emotionally. I never knew the reciprocal power and influence I could share with a being! I need my whole best self to do the job, and a bit of yoga and meditation during the day when I can or at night when she sleeps makes all the difference in the world. Taking care of me, my mind and body, is a priority because I need to be well to care for Roua. Experiencing the power of my body through all its changes and breastfeeding has been such a wondrous process! 

Having a baby makes life more complicated but really, it also makes life so simple. All I have to do is be my best self and love this sweet little human. I am learning to just take the day with each moment as it comes, without attachment to what the day should look like or what needs to be done. I make a list and do my best. With Roua, I am learning to truly let go and just live. 

When I look down at her big eyes and cute little nose, sometimes I can't believe that those parts of her were formed inside of me from two cells that joined, and that I carried her for 9 months. It blows my mind. Thank you to Uncle Kevin for the 2-month birthday outfit which came in the mail just in time!

Things I want to Remember about my baby Roua at 2 months:

1. Her cute little croissant-shaped hands. 

2. The way she stares at me so lovingly, at times pensively with those big eyes! 

3. Her sweet smiles, especially in the morning when she first wakes up and sees me. 

4. The o-shape she makes with her mouth sometimes. 

5. The way she arches her head all the way back just to see me as she lays in her 2^nd crib in the living room. 

6. The way she savours slowly waking up with a nice long stretch. 

7. The sounds she makes after yawning and coughing that remind me of her Great Grandpa Ma. 

8. Her long fine hair, the first thing which I heard the midwives exclaiming about as her head was crowning! 

9. Her loud farts and burbs and poops, so satisfying... :) 

10. Her sweet innocent smell and soft skin...

11. The way she shakes her head before taking a big mouthful of breast!

12. All her many snoring sounds.

I’ll stop there for now since I can go on and on...but these are the main ones. Cheers to you Roua! Happy 2 month birthday honey. Mama loves you so much! Looking forward to celebrating with chocolate banana creme pie Tata Gaëlle will make tonight!!!

*Photos by ma belle-mère et moi. 

The World Can Wait

Not Instagrammed: Desert hiking trail near Azusa, CA. May 2019 

Let’s slow it down. Take a breath. That email can wait. So can that text, and instagram message, and whatsapp message and messenger message and telegram message. It can all wait. The world can wait.

This has been my mantra for the past 4 months. Around the time that both my grandmas passed away, I came up with this mantra for myself. The world can wait until after I have had my cup of coffee in the morning. The world can wait until after I mediate before I answer the those emails. Just because technology moves fast, doesn’t mean that we have to. We have the power to slow it down. The choice is ours.

Around the same time, perhaps a few months before that, I decided to stop posting on instagram. My last post was on March 26th, 2019. I really enjoyed posting and sharing stories, but I found myself, almost everywhere I went, thinking “wow this would such a nice shot and oh this would be the coolest caption.” I began to realize that I kept ruining that moment for myself. I kept going into the future about what a nice instagram post this would be instead of just living in the moment. I realized that the cycle of taking the perfect picture and posting it and then seeing how many likes and views I got was like a tic, everywhere I went. I wanted to just experiment and see what would happen if I just stopped?

The human brain is incredible. The plasticity of our brains allows us to learn new things everyday. This means we can make lasting change in our lives, build new neurological connections and pathways. We have the power to do this everyday. So, I just told myself I would stop posting pictures for a while and just live in the moment.

Not Instagrammed: Hiking with family in Azusa, CA. May 2019

At first, I caught myself thinking, while sitting by a stream on a hike for example, oh this would be such a nice shot of this little flower here. I would, by muscle memory, go for my phone, usually in my back pocket. Only then would I stop myself and put my phone back, reminding myself of my experiment. This would happen for a while. I don’t remember how long exactly.

Eventually, I would no longer think about instagram or facebook or posting photos. I no longer reached for my phone during those moments of beauty I found myself upon. I was living in the moment, really just being in the moment of whatever I was doing and where ever I was. Perhaps my brain made new connections and so I stopped reaching for my phone. And, when I realized this, which was a gradual process, I felt so liberated. I don’t really know liberated from what exactly, but perhaps just from the desire or need to share where I am and what I am doing.

Don’t take this the wrong way, I still look at instagram and this is the main way I keep in touch with my cousins and brother, perhaps even get the news. And I find so much inspiration from it, especially in the realm of yoga and food. It’s a wonderful tool. But like all tools, I think it depends on how you use it. I still find myself some days checking it so many times, too many times. It is so addictive. So, for me, like life in general, it is all about balance.

Not Instagrammed: Interesting Swamp Scene on hike. Azusa, CA May 2019

And, since we are talking about building new good habits and establishing routines, I have begun a new morning and bedtime routine about 2 months ago. It’s not really new, since I had done it before, though I would fall out of the routine and jump back in, so it wasn’t as consistent, but it has been pretty consistent the last 2 months, and I have felt such an improvement in my days and in my nights.

During the morning, the first thing I do is have my coffee. I take the time to grind beans so it’s fresh and boil the water with a fast boiler. I use the pour over method, which I have been for years and absolutely love. Coffee for me, is a non-negotiable. It wakes me up and makes me happy. I sip my coffee on the sofa, enjoy the view of green mountains, and that is it. I try not to think of anything or think about my day yet, I just focus on sipping my coffee, smelling it and waking up, slowly. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, Bodhi will hop onto my lap and cuddle with me for a bit.

When I was working at the farm, I would take the first few sips like this, and then, for the sake of time, I would hop onto my yoga mat and do a few morning poses, cow and cat, a few lunges, forward folds, some sun salutations, and in between poses, I would continue sipping my coffee. I would feel so energized getting my body moving and the energy flowing in a positive way first thing in the morning after hours of sleep. Then I would hop over to the computer room where I have a chair by the window. I have to sit here to get internet reception on my phone so that I can hear my headspace app for meditation. At first, I was annoyed at this, the fact that I couldn’t just meditate on my yoga mat, but then I found the chair quite comfortable for meditation and the view beautiful as well,  so it all worked out. I do 10 mins usually, but sometimes, if I’m pressed for time, I’ll do 5 mins. This part of my morning is so important. I feel like meditation sets the tone for my day, one of clarity and positivity. It also gives me a moment to practice gratitude and that also makes me feel so good and gives such perspective on life.

After that, I do all my bathroom business and get dressed then I’m out the door. The main point that has helped a lot has been that I do not look at my phone or other electronics for the first few hours of my morning. I used to sip my coffee while I scrolled through emails on my phone/ looked at instagram, and though it took me a while, I began to notice that this really exhausted me. I suppose it was just information overload. And, frankly, mostly information I did not need.  It’s also perhaps a luxury of my job. The lettuces and leeks wouldn’t be emailing me, I just knew I had to get down to them ;)

Not Instagrammed: Beautiful CA Buckwheat on trail. Azusa, CA May 2019

After a month, I began noticing the difference. I felt so much more energy in the morning and had such clarity and focus throughout the day. My mind felt less cluttered with stories that didn’t serve me. Some mornings, like Saturday mornings, I’ll sip my coffee, do some yoga and look at instagram because it’s fun and I do enjoy it. Or, I'll sip my coffee and scroll through before yoga and meditation. But, that's more like a treat.

For my evening routine, I also eliminate all electronics at least 1 hour before bed, 2 hours is better though. I don’t look at my phone or the computer. Sometimes, if we watch a movie or show, then I make an exception, but this is rare so it’s ok. The other night I happened to look at my phone because I had gotten a text which usually doesn’t happen, but it did and then I got sucked into some instagram perhaps or something on the phone and had to pull myself out of it. I noticed that night I did not fall asleep as well. I try to be in bed by 9 or 9:30pm though, this week I've been closer to 9pm which has been great. Most of the time I am successful since my body naturally gets tired around then. I like to read a few words from whatever books I’m reading next to my corner of the bed and then fall asleep.

Together, these routines of starting and ending the day have improved my functioning and feeling during the day. I feel like I’m functioning more optimally by keeping to these electronic boundaries for myself.

Not Instagrammed: Sage Blossoms. Azusa, CA May 2019

The world can wait. It really can. I think we keep trying to keep up with the pace of the world, and it’s just not humanely possible and we get swept away by all this stuff we don’t need, dampening and dulling our own personal creative spirits and thoughts, while perhaps even straining our adrenal glands.

I have learned in these past few months not to be pressured by responding to emails and texts and all that messaging stuff right away. Back then, when snail mail or telegrams were the only way to communicate, information took time to get to you and you had time to reflect and write something meaningful back. I love that we have email and that it keeps us so connected and makes life so efficient in many ways, but it also hinders our abilities to take time and reflect, since it's so easy to just respond right away. 

Time. Time is ours and time is precious. Don’t let these superficial pressures of responding right away get the most of your time. Look up, look outside, gaze at the stars or sunset once in a while rather than your phone. Take time to be with your people, to smell the flowers, sages, and buckwheats, together. See how you feel afterwards.

People can wait and if they can’t, they can learn. They will live if you don’t answer them right away. Try it! I promise it’ll be ok if you don’t respond right away. So, for September (and beyond) let's slow down and savor life.

*photos by me. 

100 Days of Mourning: A Chinese Tradition of Grief and Ceremony

Grandma Ma & me <333 from my scrapbook in CA.

It’s been 102 days since my Grandma Ma passed away and 111 since my Grandma Lee passed away. I’ve been thinking about them a lot this week, and my Grandpa Ma and Grandpa Lee, my Grandparents, my ancestors whom I am so deeply rooted.

I am wearing my Grandma Ma’s silk blouse that my sweet cousin Kitty Kat, who is more like my sister, had given me. I gave it a deep sniff and hug before putting it on this morning, savouring the warm morning sunshine on my back as I changed. I really feel her warm energy, beauty and strength as I wear it and type this post. I feel this way about the jade bracelet which was hers and handed down to my by my Auntie’s Nimbo Thin and Nimbo Nam back in May. Some might think me silly, it’s just a stone and blouse, they probably are thinking, but to me it is so much more.

I believe in the energy of the world all around us and everything holds a vibration of some sort. Natural materials I think really absorb the energies of their owners. Even synthetic materials I believe hold energy. I wonder to where my Grandma Ma wore this silk blouse. Perhaps she wore it on a lunch date with Grandpa Ma when they were first dating in Vietnam at their favorite French restaurant by the train station where they would meet during her business trips back in the days of the 1950s and 60s. She had such beautiful taste. I feel her love and comfort when I nap with her blanket as a throw. I believe in its rejuvenating and comforting energy.

The otherside of M. et Mde. Isnardi's field site where I work, France. 

Grandma Lee was a country girl too, here in a Vietnam.

I am reminded of my Grandma Lee everyday when I go to work in the fields with the organic veggies, hands in the soil, dirt on my shoes. While she never directly taught me gardening skills, I think she has gifted me with her green genes. And, those fond childhood memories of gallivanting in the backyard of that house on De Adalena street in Rosemead, CA with my brother as my Grandma Lee worked in her garden will never fade. Long before I would ever know it or harness it’s power, Grandma Lee gave me the seed of growing plants which would become my way of life and joy. These days, more than ever, I tightly hold on to these memories.

In Chinese tradition, the 100^th day after the death of someone marks the end of the mourning period for the family and a final prayer ceremony is performed. My cousin Kat told me that it means that Grandma Ma has completed her journey to heaven. My cousin Kitty Kat sweetly sent me a message last night saying how she missed me and that the family was having a ceremony prayer for Grandma’s 100 days. She sent me some cute videos of my cousins saying goodnight to me, and it made me smile. While I’ve been thinking of my Grandparents a lot this month, I haven’t been keeping track of days, so I’m so thankful that my cousin Kat reminded me of this.

My brother Kevin and I happy with our Ama & Aye in Rosemead, CA

It is believed that the spirit of the deceased lives on and every 7 days during the first 49 days there are prayers and chanting to help the spirit have a good reincarnation. My Mom and I went to the temple with my Uncle Kanh and Auntie Quincee a few of the weeks while I was still in CA. We chanted mantras and left food offerings at the altar of the temple for Grandma Lee. We left a picture of her there in a special room with other photos of those who had recently passed. Flowers and fruit plates decorated the room.

Grandma Lee & me <333 in California

Grandpa Lee & me <333 in California

According to the Mahayana tradition of Buddhism, which most Chinese Buddhist practice, this period of 49 days is called Antarabhava in Sanskrit or the Bardo in Tibetan. The soul is between death and re-birth. What happens during this period has an influence on possible liberation or the form of the rebirth. For a favorable rebirth, the family assists their beloved by prayer and remembrances ceremonies, which are duly preformed.

Some of these concepts are still unclear to me and there is so much to further explore. If I ever find more information I will amend my post to reflect this. Kat says that Grandma is in heaven, but perhaps heaven can mean anything to the interpreter? Perhaps it’s a pure land, as in some Buddhist branches of thought believe, or perhaps it could just mean liberation. For me, I see my Grandparents in all the beauties of nature, the mountains, rivers, the sea, the butterflies. Their spirit/soul/consciousness, is too grand to be contained into one entity. To me, they are liberated, beyond form, beyond boundaries.

Our friends Laura and Gijs came to spend the weekend with us, and we went on a lovely like in the Gorges de Daluis to Point Sublime. It was a gorgeous view. At the top I sat on a rock and just marveled at the beauty of the moment we were in, amongst good friends and surrounded by incredible beauty. The silence was inviting me to feel into my heart, and there I felt the pulse of my Grandparents and other friends whom I miss dearly. I took a moment to think of them, thank them for all of their protection and sent all my love. Some days I feel so sad knowing I can’t see them again, hug them, kiss their cheeks, hear their voices tell their stories. In some moments I cling to the idea of seeing them just one more time, hugging them once more time, painting Grandma Ma’s nails one more time, holding Grandma Lee’s hand one more time. I haven’t seen either of them in any dreams yet. I’ll be ready when they come.

**

I wrote this eulogy for Grandma Lee and had shared it on the day of her Celebration of Life at Rose Hills Memorial. I want to share it here because without my Grandma Lee’s green genes there wouldn’t exist my blog Garden Gallivanter.

My Grandma Lee next to sunflowers, in Vietnam(?).

Most remember my Grandma Lee as an independent and strong woman: both in business and the way she carried herself in the world. She could do anything. While all this is true, I remember her most for her nurturing spirit, perhaps a side of her being she did not dare let shine through often.

My name is Tiffanie Ma and I am one of Cuc Lee’s 13 grandchildren, the first wave of grandchildren you could say. I’ve had the privilege of growing up close to my Grandparents here in California. Being a farmer in southern France now, I had begun two new jobs last month. One, working on an organic vegetable and chicken farm, planting veggies, harvesting and collecting eggs; the other, starting seedlings, which, for my non-gardeners and farmers out there, are baby plants which we begin from seeds and care for before they are big enough to be sold to the farmer or home gardener.

I promise I have a point to all this, and this is still about my Grandma Lee.

One day at my seed-starting job, I was starting various seeds in the greenhouse with my friend and boss. Having seen my other trays of seeds sprout beautifully, she mentioned to me, “Tiffanie, you have green hands.” I smiled and humbly-declined the comment, noting the cultural difference that in the US we say “green thumbs instead of green hands”.

Her comment lingered as I kept working, tiny seeds in my hands, new life before me. I reflected on where I could have inherited these magical green hands and immediately thought of my Grandma Lee.

As a kid, I remember so many pieces of joyful moments with Grandma and Grandpa Lee. My brother Kevin and I were so lucky and got to spend time with them at the park at Langley Center where they played ping pong. I remember Grandma Lee patiently teaching me division at the kitchen table, as she went back and forth between the kitchen cooking up something delicious, like those amazing noodles she made me for my birthday.

I remember the backyard of the house on De Adalena street, where Grandma and Grandpa lived in the front house and we lived in the back house. I remember playing outside and noticed her working in her garden. It wasn’t anything manicured, some Vietnamese herbs and veggies I would guess, a plot of weeds to the untrained eye. I just remember a lot of greenness surrounding her, the tall grassy leaves of lemon grass, and never any chemical sprays or plastic bottles. I’m not certain, but I think Grandma Lee was an organic gardener like I am today.

While I don’t remember precisely, I have a memory of her planting all sorts of home remedies out there to better her soil and plants. Maybe fish or shrimp pieces from the kitchen were buried to enrich the earth of her garden.

I was young at the time, but I only wish now that I was able to learn more about gardening from the green wisdom and hands of my Grandma Lee. She probably had such a wealth of knowledge about organic gardening practices, her produce from the garden were always so green and lush. 

But, we shouldn’t live in regrets and what ifs, at least I choose not to live that way. Instead, I am so grateful that Grandma Lee passed down to me her gift of gardening which I discovered intuitively 7 years ago. I am quite sure of it, since I have no recollection of being taught anything specific, though this urge to grow food and nurture land sprouted from my heart and that seed must have been planted by someone.

I want to thank my Grandma Lee for all of her love and sacrifice for all of 7 her children and us grandchildren. She had to be so strong for everyone, and I am just honored that I got those glimpses of her soft spirit as I skipped around the backyard as she tended to the earth. Now I know how much of a nurturing heart it requires to grow life and Grandma Lee could grow anything.

Literally, anything. My brother Kevin reminded me of the dragon fruit (thanh long in vietnamese) which she grew and proudly showcased telling us that the tropical fruit is not native to Southern California, but she was able to grow it into fruition anyway!! Pure Magic.

These flowers here are from my garden at my parents house, nothing exotic like dragon fruit, but I picked them this morning for Grandma Lee. It is her gift of green hands which she gifted me that I was able to grow these flowers which have brought joy and peace to that piece of earth in front of my parents house and to so many who encounter them.

I will always remember Grandma Lee as a beautiful and delicate flower, with strong roots. Her name means Chrysanthemum. With every garden I grow, wherever I go, I will aspire to emulate my Grandma Lee in all her beauty and strength.

Com un ba ngoi. 

Goodbye to Grandmas

At the end of April I left France for California to spend the last few days of my Grandmothers' lives with them. And, no, that's not a typo of where I put the apostrophe, as you will soon see. I ended up staying for a month, unexpectedly. My Grandma Ma had not been eat for a few weeks and just out of the hospital for her irregularly beating heart. In short, she was declining. 

Interestingly and uncannily enough, Grandma Lee was also dying. When I had heard Grandma Ma wasn’t well, I looked for a plane ticket immediately, not knowing at the time about Grandma Lee. I followed my instincts without question and my farm bosses were so understanding, telling me to go and be with my Grandmother (they hadn't known about Grandma Lee yet either). 

The night before flying, I had a terrible dream. It was a feeling of imminent death. I called my mother at 2am France time, asking how Grandma Ma was and she said not good, and then clarified that she was talking about my Grandma Lee who was dying. My two beloved Grandma’s were in different stages of transitioning, and I was holding my breath to make it there in time.

G. Lee and my Mom in Da Nang, Vietnam.  By: G.Pa Lee

The starts somehow aligned and I think my ancestors and Grandpa Ma and Grandpa Lee had something to do with it, but I did make it in time. I had one day with Grandma Lee. She was no longer speaking and on oxygen, but I told her all I wanted to say, and was there to spend one day with her. The next morning she passed away. I was sad of course, though I think my jet-lag masked my sadness, and I had felt more tired than anything. My adrenal glands were working overtime, juggling life and death. 

I went to the nursing home each day to spend time with Grandma Ma. I stayed some nights with her and also got to spend time with my sweet cousin Vanessa and aunties Loan and Barbara when we all stayed over night with her, tending to her, monitoring her as nurses came by to take her vitals. Mostly, at least for me, I just wanted to spend every moment I could with her, knowing she would soon be gone.

Grandma Ma's last day outside in the sunshine. Arcadia, CA

Auntie Loan and Connie chatting amongst many family there for Grandma. 

Those last few days with her and all my family was the most beautiful and positive experience of death I have ever witnessed. It’s hard to capture it all in words, but there was this energy of love and deep peace that was so palpable in that room. My Grandma looked so beautiful and at one moment by her bedside I whispered to her that she was beautiful inside and outside in Vietnamese, and she smiled and humbly shook her head in decline.

She just had this grace about her as she was dying, and it was a honor to be a part of the process, to witness it all. She smiled so much of the time and her face lit up whenever she saw one of us. At one point, one of the last days of communication, she whispered in Vietnamese, “thung naow” which means “love each other,” as we all surrounded her bedside, delicately listening, since all her words were whispers. She clapped her hands gently, like she was happy for us to all be together and there with her. We couldn’t really understand or hear everything she was saying, but she looked at us all and her smile was so big, like she knew she had lived a beautiful life, like we were the reflection of a life well-lived; and she had all the love and peace in her heart to go well. Many times I tried but couldn’t hold back the tears, like many of us. I knelt on the floor on my knees holding her hand. We all took turns. 

I try to be strong for her but truthfully, it hurts so much to say goodbye. While I know there is so much more to my Grandma than her physical being, and while I try to not be attached, I am human after all and miss so much her voice, her soft skin and her scent, the little smile she had. Of course it was heartbreaking, I got to cry with my family and together we remembered her legacy of compassion and love for her family and community.

The night before her funeral we got together as a family just as we had for my Grandpa Ma in February and cooked her favorite meal, braised pork and egg in coconut juice, with a side of bamboo shoots, white rice, and of course, nuc mam (fish sauce). Grandma used to make this dish all the time. Dessert was this sticky dumpling with coconut shreds and peanuts. My Grandma used to make these foods.  After dinner we went in a circle and each said something we remembered about Grandma. When it was my turn, I froze, lost my words; It was as if someone had taken away my voice, and I couldn’t speak. I was overwhelmed and the tears came. Slowly I found my words, though that was the first time that had ever happened to me. 

My lovely Nimbo Nam cutting up the banana leaves <333. 

Toasted peanuts to be smashed and mixed with the coconut shreds. 

My Nimbo Thin making the rice flour dough <333.

Rice flour, banana leaf, coconut/peanut filling, oil. 

The coconut shred/peanut filling are molded into the flour and steamed.

My favorite part of the evening was hearing stories from my Uncles and Aunts about those days in Vietnam, a time before my own. My Uncle Mike’s stories were most striking to me. He, like me, had many pauses, holding back tears, while sometimes letting them fall, but he was brave like we all were to share his stories.

One was of when before they were going to escape Vietnam to America and my Grandpa had asked my Grandma to go through their coastal small village of Da Bac in Cam Ranh, Vietnam. This was circa 1975. My Grandparents had an herbal medicine and fishing supply business. My Uncle began by saying, “This is a story I remember of my Mom....” He was with her going house to house and while they were supposed to be collecting money from people who owed them for their herbal medicines and fishing supplies, since they often let people get what they needed without paying if they couldn’t, instead she saw how poor every family was and instead they went to the market to buy these people rice and some pork belly. They did this house after house. And when they got back to their home my Grandpa asked if they got the money and my Grandma said no. 

I love this story because even though I wasn't there, knowing her, it sounds like exactly something she would do. And it shows so much about her character and heart. Even during a time of war, when fear usually makes people suspicious and greedy, she loved her neighbors and acted with loving-kindness. 

Ma Family Têt (Chinese New Year), Da Bac, Vietnam 1973 

He shared another story of when in America, after escaping Communist Vietnam by boat circa 1977, he and Grandma were at a bus stop and they had just arrived to a new country so they were poor and on welfare; but she saw a poor person across the street of the bus stop and told my uncle to wait there and she crossed the street to give this person some money. Being poor is hard, especially with 8 kids, especially in a foreign country, but she still had such a generous heart to help her fellow human. Her humanity was grand. She knew how to love people. She always reminded me of this, and I will never forget.

There are so many stories like this, I could write a book. Actually, I am writing a book and have been for a long time now, but now is more than ever the culmination of research and family stories coming together to write the story of my Grandparents and my family’s journey from Vietnam to America. 

***

April was an intense month, to say the least. Two matriarchs of my life, gone, together at least. Perhaps they invited each other, my mother speculates. My mom said my Grandma Ma planned it out so well so that I could extend my stay in CA and spend some time with my Mom too. “Now I don’t have anyone to call Mom anymore,” she said to me after my Grandma Lee passed away, “I’m glad you’re here otherwise I’d be sad.” That was the most vulnerable expression I had ever heard from my Mom. “I’m here for you Mom,” I replied.

Being there for my parents who had just loss their parents was also another layer of emotional support I was happy to be there to fill. But, my family, being a big one, carried and shared the sadness for each other, which was another beautiful element of death and grief. It humbles you and if you're lucky, can bring your family closer together. 

Both funerals, celebrations of life, were held at Rose Hills Memorial where most of our loved ones who have passed rest in peace. My Grandmothers passed away one week apart from each other. Grandma Lee on May 1^st and then Grandma Ma on May 8^th. As a family we honored them in the best way we could and the flowers and speeches were beautiful.

Flowers from friends and family for Grandma Ma; Dad and Grandma photo.

Kev, Dad and I wearing traditional Chinese headbands. 

Flowers in honor of Grandma Lee from her burial site at Rose Hills. 

At 30, I now have no more Grandparents. I know I'm so lucky to have had 2 sets of loving Grandparents, and even more lucky to have had them until 30, except for my Grandpa Lee who passed away when I was 15. It’s still a concept I am adapting to. One chapter in my life has closed and a new one begun. I find myself missing them intensely in spurts.

I was honored to receive my Grandma Ma’s jade bangle, the one she wore everyday and I remember so well. My Nimbo Thin and Nimbo Nam said she would have wanted me to have it. It is beautiful and more importantly, it carries all the beautiful energy of my Grandma, so I feel so protected with it. My Nimbo Thin told me it’s over 40 years old; that Grandma had it since 1972.

I’m not used to wearing something so precious, and my greatest fear is breaking it by hitting my hand against something. But, I am very aware of it so try to be as careful as I can and so far so good. It was hard to get on my wrist! We had to use a plastic bag to slip it through, but it fits perfectly. I also was given her blanket, her beautiful white silk blouse, her knitted vest she always wore, which I had requested, and my sweet cousin Kat found, and a few other trinkets.

During all of this, I had the sweet opportunity to squeeze in some time to meet with my friend Madelon from yoga for tea at her lovely home. She is a gem of a person. I find her to be my spiritual friend, a wise woman and teacher of the metaphysical. We were reflecting together on this season of death in my life, of losing all 3 of my Grandparents within 3 months. She said death was an opportunity to learn. And, in her wisdom, and what I have experienced, she is so right. I’ve learned more than I can express in one blog post, and of course I haven’t even begun to speak of my amazing Grandma Lee yet, though I think I’ll share my eulogy of her here later, since she was an incredible gardener and Grandmother, of course. I wrote a eulogy for Grandma Ma too, but I think I’ve covered the gist of it here.

Lettuce in one of our fields at Isnardi's, my favorite. Puget-Theniers, France

Wild poppies share the field with our veggies.

When I left France, Spring was just beginning, and when I had first returned it was in full force. Beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere at the farm house. Not to mention all the lovely rows of salads and other veggies, which my colleague Indira had beautifully planted while I was away. She is amazing and held the fort down well while I was gone, as did Agnès and Renaud. 

Now, being back for about a month, it is definitely Summer. This week has been very hot 36 degrees celcius, which is 98.9 fahrenheit! I’ve been working just in the mornings from 6-11am or so, and it’s been wonderful. It’s just too hard to work in the heat and inefficient, since the body works slower. I love going to bed at 9 and waking up at 5, when it is quiet and feels like all the world is still asleep.

Coquelicot (poppies) make me so happy. 

Photos by: me, unless noted, or unknown.