Rice is a deeply embedded part of the culture here in the Philippines as well as most of Southeast Asia. It is served with every meal, from breakfast to late night. There are rice shops every few blocks, offering at least a dozen different varieties and it is grown nearly everywhere except steep mountainous terrain and even then one might find terraced paddies built by generations of farmers. I worked for years in the landscape industry and turf management was an area of some expertise, with advanced irrigation systems, fertilization and weed control it was possible to create verdant expanses of green but they pale in comparison to the color of early and mid-season rice fields. The green is so intense it washes over you and there is a wonderful odor, a sweetness that lingers in the breezes around you. Here rice is a family affair, there is little or no mechanization. So in planting times as pictured here or in harvest men, women and children team together. They can be seen planting each individual rice plant by hand over hundreds of acres of carefully created and cultivated wetlands.

I struggled with her face repainting it half a dozen times or more. She had a rugged beauty and a smile despite the hard work that made her glow. Difficult to capture for me in this size format, I may just paint her face. Overall I am happy with it and my Filipino friends loved the work.