When I was a little girl in Hanoi, I loved playing in the summer rain. No hat, not umbrella, no raincoat. There were just me and the rain running down my face. I loved the smell of heated concrete yard gradually soaking in the rain. It might sound of irony but I smelled burning. Perhaps when the cold rain touched the hot concreted yard: the encounter of the two objects of opposite states of temperature, it created the burning spark. It’s chemistry. Or perhaps the smell was not even there. It was just in my imagination.
My name is Quynh, and I blog for fun and for profit. Check out my writing services at quynh.nl. See you there!
A self-portrait poem
An insomniac who writes
I crave for the peace of mind
Wandering in sleepless nights?
Do come to say Hi
- Gardening Thoughts: On Patience
- Gardening with a baby
- March in the garden: Gear up for a new growing season
- How to design my beloved balcony garden in a permaculture style
- Growing spinach in the containers
- How to be happy with gardening in the winter
- Gardening in January: Who’s up for some fresh air?
- Growing Potatoes Not in the Ground
- Easy-Peasy Spring Onion
- Growing Chillis Up North: Success and Failure
- Grow Basil, Make Pesto, and More
- The Joy (and Benefits) of Growing Bee-Friendly Flowers
- How to Care for Cherry Tomatoes from Your Balcony
- Growing Coriander in Pots: The Fun and the Rewards
- The Other Wedding Tale
- Over the Edge
- Gili Trawangan: A morning run
- Java Part 1: cities
- Getting Married
- Stop Wasting Food: Starting with Ingredients
- The wind and a dream
- Stop Stereotyping Me: I am not Chinese
- If You Drink The Water and Breathe The Air, This is About You.”
- Never Miss a Memory
- The Permission to Quit
- Trivia No. 5
- Trivia No.4.
- Trivia No.3
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