Made in Japan, Outsourced Globally

I lazily contemplate doing some work over the weekend. But I have also been sitting on my couch since 11am, finishing up Slaughter House Five and flippin' through American sit-coms I have already seen.

The weekend is anti-climactic. Like cheap bubble gum that has been chewed for 3.5 hours. Chew chew chew. Grey rubber. Nothing too exciting.

Little Holland bloomed in our front garden; bright yellow & red tulips among other floras of pink, purple, and white. Every other English household has one. All they need are miniature windmills (and maybe a garden gnome). Spring has sprung. It was only a couple days ago that I noticed the distinct change of the season.

The commute to work has now become a vibrant celebration of somehting. White bead-like flowers line the roads, branches extended in white confetti for a happy bride. Yellow and cream-coloured daffodils trumpet their petals in every-which way, like a collection of chatty housewives. Dogwoods are shy, but they stand calmly like the peaceful boddhitsava with lillies on her hands. Cherry blossoms shake their heads and shed flurries of pink. Each flower looks delicate and sugary sweet; it is as if you could pick one off and eat it like candy. And there's the field of butter - the kanola plants stand 2-feet tall and overwhelm what used to be the green knolls. From higher elevation (which is rare in the English country side), the squre patches look like giant toasts glistening in buttery gold.

If I am in the mood, I take the backroad where I drive through a small provincial village. Population 16. Plus 15 holstine cows. Plus 36 sheeps (a third of which are lambs). Thatched roofs and stony walls. I enjoy the scenery, and there is magnificence that spreads to my left - I see rays of sunshine fall through the cracks of grey clouds on the church. You wouldn't have doubted your eyes if angels or some other celestial creature descended from the sky through that light. But I need to keep my eyes on the road. I look forward to the next best view - the industrial windmills. Each of the three propellas remind me of a model plane. On a clear day, you can see these ivory towers against a blue sky and the verdane field - the wings turning out of synch with each other, proclaiming individuality among uniformity. I feel like I could fly away when I see them.

No glitsy lifestyle here. But there's the English country-side charm, which not too many people will see when visiting England.