This year I plant this plant again. It is now just about 2 week old and about 1 foot tall. It will flower in August when it reaches the height of my chest. 

Some folks (person who gives me seeds) call it Hàm Hương, meaning the " latent fragrance) because the flowers do not have any scent. However, the monarch butterflies come and be so infatuated (or intoxicated) by the unfelt scent that they chose to stay around until they die or the flowers die out. http://njunhung.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/p1000569.jpg

Do you write a diary? If you do, try to write it in English. Gradually, you will improve your writing skill.

However, I want you to look for the difference in meaning among diary, journal, logbook. They are great words to learn to build up your vocabulary. Don't forget that you must learn English by using English because learning English through translation cannot give you a thorough comprehension of this target language.

If you kept a diary, what would you write for today? Of course, you can just use the English you have acquired to do the job.

I do not keep a diary. Otherwise, I would have written:

" Today, after rising from bed at 5:30 I opened my back door, which looks to a small empty crop-land newly overgrown with grass. Taking me by a surprise, a powerful cacophony of wail were waffing into my house, ringing deafeningly into my ears. I was taken aback for a while before realizing that it was the cicadas who were heralding the coming of another summer. ......"

See, you can just record in your diary what you first encounter in the day, or what impresses you most.

Start now!

It was March 8, International Women's Day. I took my wife on a short pleasure trip to the beach of Cần Giờ District, Ho Chi Minh city by motorcycle.

I chose this destination because it takes just a day for a round trip by motorcycle. I also thought that beaches there were not as crowded and as expensive as those of, for example, Vung Tau. Of course the where-to-go and the wherewithals are of equal importance, so far as the budget is concerned.
We really made good time due to the slack traffic and propitious starting time. The ferry-crossing possibly took the least time with the proper tidal level for docking. So we were riding, our eyes were fully eating the elapsing perspective scenes. Houses, ponds, paddy fields, bushes, arbors were running backward as the cool morning draft were lashing into my unmasked face.
I was ascending the slope of a bridge; suddenly an expansive greenery of mangrove forest appeared afront stretching limitlessly toward horizon in every direction. Air was getting cooler, and the dazzling morning sun seemed to be absorbed into the vastness to be mildly subdued hue. Everything of that moment bespoke the perfection of human and nature union. Exultation and exaltation are all but one.
After a considerable distance of joyous ride, we barged into a memorial site for the Rừng Sác mangrove task-force guerrillas. The visit left no impression whatsoever by the aforementioned theme; save the commonly known name of Monkey Island. The curiosity has lured many visitors there. Some other boring activities such as outboard-canoe cruise into forest and animal circuit and rip-off drinks can just be recompensed by the viewing of the rogue dwellers of that colony, the macaques. The inhabitants of the island are so familiarized with tourists that they know how to take advantages of their recklessness to snatch things from their hands and enjoy the spoils. It was frighteningly amazing that a little macaque stalked behind my wife suddenly snatched a big bottle of water in a bag, then dragged it into the mangrove stumps to open the cap and drank the water. Lined along the walking path were these rogues, grinning, bullying, chitchatting with all sorts of funny mischiefs. Upon retrieving the motorcycle I also found out that the packaged rice bag hung on the motorcycle side-hook had been thiefed away.
After all, this experience is not a bad one, considering one finds something exciting to escape the run-of-the-mill life. And to indulge oneself into to lavishness of nature is always the salubrity. Mind you; however, the rogues are known to have robbed visitors off their valuable things such as wallets, purses, cameras,...and the retrievals are hardly done without damage to the properties.

Having just upgraded a notch in my age tally, I hardly feel any motives to fare the way ahead. What I achieved last year is but the relocation of the family to a new place, which is still entailing endless trivial hand work, which I hate most. What to come still? The vicious circle is spinning there! Sustenance is what makes human beings eke out their living in particularly different ways. Mine seems to be a unique walk of life, given the backgrounds this sort. However, before moving I had vowed to stop working for my usual client, whose job involves inter-governmental environment management activities; as I had seen the role of an interpreter&translator in this complex transaction would be tough one and ever tougher. So 'give it a damn' works best for me as an appropriate excuse now! Haha! Otherwise, I would of course be under great pressure from both parties, not to say of discernable or undiscernable envies from many entities involved. The language rendering role would be no neutral. Crookedness is none of my natures. Dude! it's your time to leave. No decision for now and on has been made though. The likely thing-to-do is that next week I will start tutoring some children -- hope they don't bring toddlers for English learning -- so I will start to glean loose change. But who cares!

It's hard to describe what it tastes like. The tree just bears fruit once a year. December is the time this fruit is ripe. I feel missing this fruit because I live far from where it is grown. It isn't available at any fruit stand or market.

This fruit is called wood apple. Locally, it is called 'kwut'.

It's hard to describe what it tastes like. The tree just bears fruit once a year. December is the time this fruit is ripe. I feel missing this fruit because I live far from where it is grown. It isn't available at any fruit stand or market.

This fruit is called wood apple. Locally, it is called 'kwut'.

Hello friends and members!

I have not written anything, say, for four months or so in this club. Now I come back with another way, posting a link to my speech. I think this media is foolproof or anybody who wants to try.

I you have a headset, or a sound speaker, just turn it on and listen.

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vwFqril68Hgu2IitF