Working for peanuts: fathoming futility

One of the things which I did for the first time ever this year was grow my own peanuts.

I woke late to the notion that peanuts might be possible in this island climate, thus I planted at the wrong end of the season - about a month before the dry turned to wet, a crucial difference in a two season climate

The peanuts did germinate, though, and even flower (very soon), and then show signs burrowing back down into the earth,  just like the literature said they would.

I kept watching for the plants to tell me that it was harvest time. No real strong indicators came. I let things slide.

Finally curiosity weighed more heavily than patience. A general irritability with my lack of real success in any enterprise conspired.

In a mood of futility, I pulled up the scraggly plants to find some mould, some empty husks (rot? a peanut thief? or?) some resprouted nuts and a final yield of about two cups of shelled nuts.

Which harvest I roasted (a tad too much) and managed to spread over about four or five meals.

For the original 13 seeds planted this was not really a bad yield, but it also was not that spectacular a return on investment of food garden real estate.

There are some of the resprouted nuts still in the ground - seed for further harvest?

I certainly like the idea of growing my own protein source.

In summary I suspect that peanuts would thrive better being planted at the beginning of the dry season, rather than the end. I also think that they might prefer a sandier growing medium not the very wet soggy mulch and manure which passes as growing medium in most of my garden beds at this stage of evolution of the food garden.

Like a lot of things I have done this past year of working for peanuts, it was not a wildly successful venture, but it did to pass the time and had its moments.

Do I see myself ever building on this experience in the future?

Are we ever granted another season in Paradise?

Mami Wata: diving deep or going with the flow

On solstice sunrise this year I was lucky enough to be soaking in a geothermally heated tidepool.

The tide was high - new moon high -  and the waves were a little rambunctious. I did have to dive deep once to avoid being dashed on the lava rocks. Sometimes this is just what one does.

Knowing when to dive deep and when to relax and float on the surface is part of what we learn to do in this life. Isnʻt it?

An elderly visiting couple were not so lucky. She got a bit scraped up, while their clothing, shoes and towels were washed onto the rocks by a grabby disruptive surge. I helped out where I could, but it was also a totally avoidable incident. There are plenty of posted signs in this park as to the danger of ocean swells and tide surges. Elderly couple had also walked right past a huge sign saying quite emphatically NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY. If that doesnʻt say you are on your own recognizance, I donʻt know what does.

Had me thinking about how a little situational awareness goes a long way to keeping one relatively unbloodied by lifeʻs rogue waves.

Personally I was hoping I would be urged to clarity at a crossroads I am facing, but instead I found myself at the Mami Wata shrine.

December garden notes

The garden of earthly delights continues to be delightfully earthy with occasional flares of delicate and brief beauty. No, I donʻt know if this lacy lovely is edible for humans. Within a day it becomes a soggy mass of putrescence.

The mystery volunteer squash managed to set three fruits. One got chewed a bit (by rats is strong possibility) and rotted.

Two are swelling - right now the biggest is about the size of a well inflated soccer ball. Thinking I should eat them soon. These are looking more like pumpkin squash than watermelon.

The newest banana has put out a smiling dolphin face of a flower bud. If all goes according to the scheme of things, early summer this dolphin should make good on its promise of a bunch of ripened fruit.

The swelling bunch in the background in this image is the fruit from the bloom of a seriously Hurricane Iselle tilted stalk which I almost jettisoned (saved by the black garbage bin). It represents the last of my survivor medal bananas from a memorable hurricane season.

Flowers everywhere. Of course. Not least bring anthuriums.

I am loving the soft sea shell blush on this one.

Holy honey

If a bee feeds on holy basil (Tulsi - Ocimum tenuiflorum ) does that produce holy honey?

Throughout late summer I noticed the Tulsi plants thriving - growing and expanding. On a sunny day that sector of the garden becomes a warm buszzy blur of bee activity as the Tulsi flowers attract honey bees in great numbers.

I donʻt know where the neighbourhood hives are, but I am glad that my garden is part of the feeding scheme for these valuable little pollinators.

Still honing my stalking skills, I try for a bee-on-Tulsi photo shoot. Thereʻs room for improvement and I didnʻt quite get any well focussed shots of the bulging orange-red pollen sacs. These little critters have impressive situational awareness - it is not easy to quiet myself down enough that I become invisible alongside them.

Boundaries: drawing lines in the sand of time

After yet another fundraiser/traveling salesman had trespassed up my jungle driveway, turning up unannounced on my doorstep, I capitulated.

I made the sign I had been told to make 18 months ago.

Whether or not I have a sign, anyone entering the property without my permission is trespassing.

A few weeks ago a rather disrespectful young man who should have known better, collecting for a church sponsored good works endeavor,  did not understand this principle.

Sigh! This time last year I phoned the headquarters of his organization to discuss the possibility that they counsel their collectors on trespass laws. Seems like the lesson did not take.

As an aside, I am a little short of patience with the smug self-righteousness of some zealous individuals acting on behalf of church organizations, who feel that, because they fly the Jesus flag, they are entitled to burst into other peopleʻs lives whenever suits them.

No. It doesnʻt work like that. I am least likely to donate to a cause when my sacred space is violated without permission.

Māhealani: lady Luna in all her fullness

Silver illumination through the night gives way to a dawn with peaceful, slightly steamy lava warmed tidepool.

Sail on silver girl, sail on by

Your time has come to shine

All your dreams are on their way

See how they shine

Morning twitter feed

Mornings in the garden are a twitter with a myriad different birds, not the least of which are little Japanese White Eyes (Zosterops Japonica) which were introduced to the islands for insect control in the 1920s. I wonder if they like to feast on fire ants? I do hope so.

Either my stalking skills are getting better or these tiny, brilliant yellow-green, beady-eyed, feathered roommates are becoming habituated to me

It has taken a while, but I finally managed a photoshoot with them. They are generally very jittery and flittery. There are feral cats in the ʻhood, after all.

Adjusting the sails: knowing the presence of dark goddesses

Beachcombing through the flotsam and jetsam of other lives,  washed up in a second hand junk store which serves as a front for a kava bar in downtown Hilo, I found myself drawing a blank in the search for something suitable to serve as a garden bench.

I explained my mission to the proprietor. I followed his Hawaiian Force brown kalo print shirt out back, to the courtyard kava bar,  where we rummidged around in a junk pile. Still no cigar.

"How much for a piece of the black taro you have growing there?"

One hug, no make that two as he upped the price after I had paid up (donʻt they always), and I walked away with starter kit of black leaf taro. Four huli.

This is possibly not an edible taro, and I am completely ignorant as to its true botanical genealogy, but does fit with the Kali Rules! theme which I seem to have going in the garden.

E Pele! E Pele!

What is that old saying: you canʻt change the wind....

Peek-a-boo to you too. Meditations on the art and science of stalking.

Still practicing this stalking thing. After the butterfly, I honed my skills on a lizard.

Because I could.

This fellow is real real watchful but we are building up trust. Slowly.

 Sometimes I blow my cover by moving too abruptly.

Lizard, however never runs out of cover. Even on the chocolate coloured Ti (Cordyline) plant.

Transformation in black and white

Feeling a little directionless: at a loose end in a squall of rainy weather, I went out into the garden.

I stalked a butterfly.

I cannot remember ever having seen a black and white butterfly before. Identification anyone?

It does seem to be Swallowtale, but that is as far as I got. Not that I know much about butterfly identification.  It was a little flittery and would not hold still for long for picture taking.

Blooming November

My imaginary friends from northern climes have recently been posting pictures in the social media of beautiful wintery scenes. Snow resting lightly on trees. Saw-toothed mountains, snow capped and majestic.

I felt left out and lonely. I logged my computer off and took a walk in the garden.

Sweet scented papaya blossoms perfume the air, especially at dawn and dusk.

 Hibiscus reach out out from all sides. This particular one always seems to want to to lick the raindrops off my hair, or anoint me with pollen. More than once I have spent the day with a hibiscus pollen tilaka  across my forehead.

 That eggplant is still bravely trying for more production.

 Anthuriums nestle in the understory around the entrance. I am slowly introducing variety and colour. Not shown here is the Black Queen which is actually a deep chocolate maroon-brown.

 These edible begonia flowers add a lovely citrus flavour to salads. Fresh garnish is always at hand since they seem to bloom year round

 Holiday decorations, anyone? This poinsettia is taller than the house. Every year I think to take it out and then it does this scarlet brilliance thing.

 I grew up calling this little pink wayside bloomer Vinca. It is also commonly known as Madagascar Periwinkle (Catharanthus roseus) . Extracts from this plant are associated with herbal healing in a range of  modalities such as Chinese Traditional Medicine and Ayuveda. There also seem to be some cautions out there as to its toxicity so I do not try brewing anything up at home at this stage.  I can remember being told, as a child at my grandmothers side in a garden, that Vinca made diabetic medicine. My grandfather,  lost his toes to diabetes. Then he died. There is a genetic indicator for diabetes feeding down the heritage river of blood into my veins, from both sides of the family.  I am  surrounded by Vinca.

 A little research however, seems to indicate that there has to be some process of extraction and isolation of specific compounds. Nevertheless I feel nurtured and healed surrounded by this very willing volunteer in the garden.

Hibiscus to the left of me, hibiscus to the right. here I am stuck in the middle (of the ocean)with blooming flowers! Eish! life in a tropical rainforest climate is hard. Not.

 Not sure who this golden beauty is, (and right now I am too rushed to do proper research) but the brilliant yellow flowers appear at the front door. A lovely bright greeting through the wet and often sunless season.