Mi Granja at La Huerta de Rosario

16/02/2026

Back to the Cathedral of Trees
16 February 2026
Mi Granja at La Huerta de Rosario

After all the dramatic longing and heartfelt I miss my farm speeches, I finally made it back to La Huerta de Rosario—my personal heaven, where the landscaping is divine and the welcome committee wears leaves.

The moment my feet touched those familiar paths, I felt it. Home. I walked slowly (and yes, a little regally), running my hands along the trunks of my trees—steady, grounded, dependable. Honestly, they hold space better than most people.

The balaigangs were in full celebration mode, their blossoms falling from fruiting branches like nature’s own confetti. No RSVP needed. Just joy. Pure, unfiltered joy. There is something deeply satisfying about seeing trees you planted now towering in green abundance. They grew. They thrived. They showed up. Goals.

And then, Le Chapelle Bleue.
Inside my little cathedral of blue, the sass softens into stillness. I whisper my gratitude—for prayers answered, prayers redirected, and miracles currently en route. In that quiet space, I feel it completely: blessed, protected, guided. Like the Universe gently saying, You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

La Huerta is my cathedral of trees, my farm, my forest, my orchard, my reset button. Heaven isn’t somewhere far away. It is here—under the green canopy, petals falling like soft hallelujahs.

And oh, what joy to be back. Thank you, universe! Life is good!

21/12/2025

Thank you, students of the University of St Anthony for this video.

30/11/2025

Plow Like a Girl: A Sassy Farm Glow-Up
30 November 2025
Philippine Council for Agriculture and Fisheries
Department of Agriculture - Philippines

Let’s get one thing straight: when I started building my farm in 2004, it wasn’t with a glamorous entourage of farmhands trailing behind me. Nope. It was just me, my grit, my dreams, and a field that needed taming. And in an agri world where men love raising their eyebrows higher than their yields, I knew I had to make a statement—preferably a fabulous, unforgettable one.

So what did I do?
I grabbed that plow like it was a limited-edition accessory and marched into the field with the confidence of someone who clearly didn’t know what she was about to put herself through.

Then came the plot twist.
There I was, huffing and puffing more than the actual beast of burden. My hair? Chaos. My muscles? Screaming. The sun? Judging. Manual farm labor? Certified difficult, verified exhausting.

But did I stop?
Did I wilt like a neglected houseplant?
Absolutely not.

I plowed that field—sweaty, stubborn, and sassier than ever. And when I finally finished that furrow, I stood there, mud on my boots and triumph on my face, and said, “There. Done. Kaya ko. Any questions?”

Point proven. Mic dropped. Farmer mode: activated. Bwahahaha!

And now?
Twenty years later, (make that twenty one) I have my farmhands at my beck and call. The plow? I don’t even have to look at it. I just point—and magic happens. From lone warrior to full-on farm queen, now that’s the glow-up. Thank you, universe! Life is good!

31/03/2025