Guarded by white gardenias

The sweet scented, creamy white gardenia (Gardenia jasminoides I think) is blooming on the east side of the carport. I was worried that the construction was going to cramp this relative of the coffee shrubʻs style, but so far it is hanging in there.

Comings and goings are currently perfumed. I do have to take care, though, of leaning in too close. Ants also love the gardenia blooms.

This week a lizard, my ancestral nudge-in-the-ribs was hanging out in the gardenias too. Feasting on ants, I hope.

 I was interested to find that gardenia fruit (zhi zi) is used in traditional Chinese herbal medicine - amongst other things for lowering blood pressure. As if the scent was not medicine enough!

I am grateful that a previous gardener established gardenias on the property.

Celebrating light

Keeping with the equinox balance theme, along with gardening,  I also spent some time celebrating seasonʻs change on the water, taking the red kayak out at dawn on Hilo bay.

On the surface it was windless, the Jolly Roger on Pirate Boat rumpled and motionless as we went by.

The water, however,  is suddenly full of a different light: shimmering opalescent jewels in place of winterʻs sullen dark moodiness.

It was a mostly cloudy dawn, with Mauna Kea completely shrouded, but the light was not so easily restrained.

It poured through fissures.

Every cloud had a silver lining but no answers in the sky. Yet.

Though that could be a manta ray. Yes! the more I look at it, the more it becomes an ethereal hāhālua

Another small coconut captured from the waters to add to the driveway trophywall.

Tea takeover: Hibiscus tea party

Continuing the equinox garden pottering notes: self sown seedlings from the Hibiscus sabdariffa, the (apparent) hibiscus tea plant, have been liberally distributed all over the garden.

The original plant, introduced here at the front northern corner, which I pruned quite seriously in late December last, has sprung blooming beautiful blooms all over again.

Not that I was successful at making any aqua de Jamaica from this plant last time around. Fortunately it is earning its keep right now with foliage colour and those blooms.

Hmmm. It seems to me that a lot of plants bloom pretty much  all year round in this climate.

Dancing to the piper: gardening with heart and ceremony

One of the other housekeeping things I did in my day of pottering in the garden on the spring equinox was to plant out the ʻawa (Piper methysticum) which I had impulsively purchased at a native and canoe plant sale a few weeks ago.

The poor little shrubling desperately needed liberating from its tiny pot.

From what I can make out, ʻawa likes to grow in semi shade. I have a spot which I was hoping to plant with bananas one day when the neighbouring lot is cleared of oppressive and destructive aliens (yeah, in my dreams). Until that time the banana gulch is a bit shady but filled with lovely fertile organic material.

I doubt that I will ever prepare this culturally significant medicinal and ceremonial plant for consumption, but I like to nurture the canoe plants, maybe provide a path for the ancient ways to find their way back.

Looking at the leaves of this newest member of the Hale Mahina collective, set me pondering the heart shaped leaves which I have introduced all over the garden. Anthurium, kalo, and now ʻawa. 

Spring equinox at the House of Gifts

Compared to the four season climate where I once lived,  the vernal equinox is not so dramatic a milepost in the tropical 360 day growing season where I now hang my hat and shuck off my slippahs. I did, however,  celebrate this important point where light and dark hangs in brief balance.

The day started with a lovely long soak at Ahalanui geothermally heated saltwater tidepool, followed by breakfast and wifi at the Sirius coffee shop, before I engaged with the earth in practical ways by pottering, sometimes in light misty drizzle, in the garden.

 The banana blooms are flourishing: both the nascent bunch, for harvest around August, I am thinking, and the one about ready to be harvested. These are both in the front (east) morning sun banana grove. Apple Bananas or Candy Apple bananas is most commonly how locals refer to these short stubby specimens, but I do not know the specific genealogy of my grove. These could even be Lady Fingers. The deliciously sweet taste is enhanced by drying.

I picked a bunch of flowers for the household altars. All from the garden. It looks way better in real life. This quick picture, taken with muddy hands, does not do the bouquet justice. Hale Makana! House of gifts.

Some time was given to distributing coffee grounds and compost, pulling weeds and working on the driveway garden: my Sisyphus path. Feral fowls insist on scratching this up every morning. Later in the day I put it back together.

My holiday visitor began the retaining wall construction. This accounts for the professionalism and beauty there in the beginning. I need more rocks of a certain significant size to continue in the style in which it was begun. I have my eye on some rocks upturned by a pavement (aka sidewalk) project elsewhere in the subdivision. I just need opportunity to collect them when the machinery is not there and I can find place to park. Of course that would require that I unload the kayak from the truck. Huh.

I wanted to water some of my transplants. The watering can, not frequently used, was not pouring well. I found it was blocked by a coqui frog. I put everything back together and still the stream was reluctant. Taking everything apart again I discover another frog lurking.

Chicken feed! This is what those feral fowls should be feeding on, not my earthworms. These little nocturnal amphibians hate the daylight, and hop quickly under cover when exposed so are difficult to capture on camera. Nights are loud with their courtship songs.

I spent the day thinking about smoke and mirrors. Illusion and reality. And how fulfilled I feel being a gardener, working with earth energies: planting, growing, harvesting, nurturing, weeding, yet how I worry about earth energy stuff like making money.

Tracking the mad March hare in the moon

There were a lot of rainy nights and dawns around full moon this month, but I did manage to capture the glory of the fullness between showers. Living in an area without streetlights has celestial advantages.

Then shrinking fast away in the dawn, we meet eye-to-eye again, me and the mad hare in the moon, one morning, as I am on my way to a date with the hot water at Ahalanui.

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What a load of spice

Sticking with the food theme: I recently found myself behind a truckload of ginger root on Highway 11,  where it becomes King Kamehameha Road through downtown Hilo.  Packed deep and wide and lightly restrained (so much for the secure your load laws): over a hundred plastic laundry crates full of ginger.

Mmmmm. Hawaiian yellow ginger heading for where? Who knows - the airport was ahead of us. When I lived on mainland USA,  Hawaiian yellow ginger root was on my grocery list and in my morning smoothies, my evening curry most days.

Now I can grow it.

Free spirited food confessions

The day after I had posted my gloriously colourful, fruity and vegetable heavy food diary,  I had pancakes for supper.

Made with a free spirited, vegan, gluten free recipe of my own devising, these ones were mostly Bobʻs Red Millʻs gluten free flour, coconut flour and mixed with coconut milk for the liquid.  No donʻt ask me for measurements. I couldnʻt find the instruments of kitchen measurement, so I just tossed in stuff. That is why this incarnation of pancake is free spirited.

The final product was more like crumpets and loaded with hemp nuts and local honey, washed down with copious cups of hot Puerh tea.

Living in style on easy street, as the ancient Polynesian said.

Garden in the rain: East Africa on my mind.

Touring the estate, I often find it adorned with trembling crystal raindrop jewels. Kalo leaves gathering holy water.

I do live in a rainforest climate zone, after all.

One morning recently, as I was on that estate tour, a tuna sushi wrapper wafted down from above, tipping me on the shoulder. Eeeeuw smelly! was my first visceral response.

Curious as there was absolutely no wind.

Those feral cats sending me messages? Bastet reaching out, even to Polynesia?

Makes me wonder how Lionheart of my Heart is. Really, deeply, truly?  Need feeding, my darling young one?

Then I pick up the mail. A Seattle-side friend has sent me a photograph of a Kenyan lion.

Signs and omens.

Sugar diaries

Like a baby bird raising a hungry mouth for feeding, a tiny shoot from the Halaliʻi heritage sugar cane has breached the surface.

While it looks strong, there is at this stage only a single shoot showing. I am sure more is going on beneath the surface. Be still my hands! Do not dig just for curiosityʻs sake!

Meanwhile the purple spears of the Honuaʻula continue to push skywards. Onward. Upwards. There are seven sweet warriors there now. That set certainly has vitality.

Staring down the demons

Nothing like deliberately walking into oneʻs worst nightmares.

This week we did huli drills (capsize recovery) in my outrigger canoe paddling class.

My special horror is the thought of being trapped under a boat in deep water. I detest underwater movies, even nice scenic Discovery Channel Nat Geo ones. I have never done any scuba diving.

For the rest of the day I felt shivery deep in my bones from the experience of being under an upside down huge six man outrigger canoe.

BUT I did not skip the class! and just happens I was in seat four - that is on the ama (outrigger),  which I now know adds to the challenges to oneʻs head underwater.

I also discovered how easy it is to huli (capsize) the huge six person canoe. We paddled out to the deep water, stashed our paddles under the seats and, on command of our steersman (akin to captain) all leaned right - the opposite side to the ama (outrigger). Obediently the canoe went over.

The next day I discover a series of bruises from wrist to armpit on the inner sides of my arms and also on the backs of my thighs - from righting then getting back into the canoe. There is a really tender spot on my head, too, probably from when the ʻiako (spar) of the ama (outrigger) thwacked me on the head as the canoe went over.

Like riding a horse, where my goal is always to stay on, I am not someone who invites capsize. Emergency preparedness has it place, though. I guess.

Sweet success

I was restraining myself so much from digging out the pieces of heritage sugar cane to see if they were taking root, that I almost missed the beginnings of their germination.

Walking by the bed en route to somewhere else, like the gooseberry patch maybe,  I my eye caught a handful of little plum spears piercing the mulch.

Sweet success! One of my pieces of Honuaʻula, the purple caned variety, is showing healthy signs of taking root, making shoots.

I am hoping that Halaliʻi will not be far behind.

The acquisition and planting of these sets of Hawaiian heritage sugar cane was documented here and here

Reflecting on food

I have had a discussion recently with my imaginary (aka online) friends about taking pictures of ourselves with all the food we eat in a day - along the lines of the Hungry Planet project

This is a challenging exercise for me since my food intake is erratic and often little bits here and there. On working days, I also often have part of my food from a cafe when I make use of the wifi to do the online part of my job.

As I was making a cooked meal (which will last me about 3 or 4 meals) I thought to put everything which I had eaten that day onto the table. A typical food day is a moveable feast. Literally.

There had been a green smoothie in the morning which had lots of kale, mixed salad greens,  cucumber, celery, an apple, banana, hemp nuts, coconut water, pineapple, ginger root.

Carrots, bananas, apple, avocado, ruby grapefruit and macadamia nuts were snacks throughout the day.

A steamed sweet potato with olive oil (or coconut oil) tamari and nutritional yeast might also be a snack/minimeal. I find this a good portable meal, easy and quick to prepare,  for days when I need to be on field trips.

The main cooked meal was a kind of biryani: brown rice with coconut oil stir fried veges. On this day it was mushrooms, celery, carrots, kale, green beans, fresh chopped turmeric root and fresh chopped ginger roots, tamari with steamed butternut added at the end.

Of course the bottles of tamari, olive oil and coconut oil on the table are not quite an accurate reflection of a single dayʻs consumption. I use a portion of those on any one day,  but I got lazy and didnʻt feel like measuring out the amounts.

My liquid intake is numerous cups of tea - usually aged Puerh - and around about three cans of coconut water

A good exercise in self reflection and visualization and no, I have not calculated the calories of everything I put in my mouth. I try to source the majority of my fresh food locally. Apples are possibly the only imported fresh food which I eat on a daily basis.

Neighbourhood watch. Reflections. Migrations.

I had half an hour to spare between one thing and another that I had to do in town last week. I stopped off for a stroll through Queen Liliuʻokalani Gardens, previously written up here, joining the other early risers in Hilo town enjoying the sunshiny blue morning, tropical ocean air air and splendid views of fresh snow on Mauna Kea.

On this morning I found myself contemplating bridges: all those I have burned or built in my life. There is a semi circular bridge in this garden which makes a perfect eye watching one as one walks around, the pupil dilating and narrowing depending on vantage.

Another bridge is lovely in lucky bright red, offering a little canopied shelter from sun or (more likely) rain, a bench for a weary traveller or maybe couple-sized, for those important conversations, duplicated in reflection.

I noticed the Kōlea (Pacific Golden Plovers) plumping up. Soon they will be away to Alaska in their annual migration.

Seems wherever I find myself, there is migration built into the contract.

Then it was time to go to work. I am grateful for green places, breathing spaces.