Here in the tropics there are few clues to the seasons and the trees and plants don’t keep a rigid seasonal schedule like places that have a pronounced autumn. The bamboo goes dormant early spring and rustles brown and withered against the sky. The Talisay trees greet the onset of summer by shedding in a colorful display. The leaves twirl as they fall and land like a blanket covering the ground and road. The dried remnants are easily driven by the breezes into small piles huddling together in a last effort to remain with their brethren. Motorcycles lumbering up the steep hill scatter these enclaves and cover them with the red ochre dust of clay that becomes so slick in the rain that it is difficult to walk uphill. The sound of their engines exhaust remains as they disappear further up the hill past the house with the laundry hung to dry, past the schoolyard entrance arched in white, under the cool shade of the palms waving at the sun. Then after cresting the hill all that remains are the sounds of roosters crowing and children playing sing song games while chasing each other. A peace washes over me and life while simple is good.