The lizard of the lei: maternal seal of approval

En route back from my birthday dawn swim, I stopped off at Lava Tree state park. Unfortunately most of it is still closed after the destruction wrought by Hurricane Iselle in August.  The lovely meditative, meandering path through the park is still out of bounds.

I was able, however, to collect enough Puakenikeni (Fagraea berteriana) flowers from the ground, to make a sweet scented lei. This sister is an advocate of doing it for herself. The day needed some kind of ceremonial honoring.

The scent of Puakenikeni is really strong. Narcissus strong, and especially cloying in midday heat in  a confined space. I put the lei outside on the backyard lockup garden gnome.

Looking out, later in the afternoon, I noticed a green flash was visiting. Possibly attracted by the ants drawn to the sticky nectar.

Thank you. Mother, who incidentally hated strong floral scents, obviously approved.

Lifeʻs a beach

A waning crescent moon and coconut palms  in the pre dawn twilight.

The scent of bitter almonds strong on the air under the trees en route to the geothermally heated tidepool at the edge of the ocean stretching all the way to the other side of tomorrow.

 A brief golden dawn for the birthday: 2015 edition.

A crescent moon cradling the shadow of the whole

A Hippeastrum by any other name

Most people call these blooms Amaryllis and know them as a plant sold for indoor blooming in northern winters.

There were a whole lot naturalizing in car tyres around the front banana grove at the time I was first gifted custodianship of Halemahina. I fell into the same mistake of calling them Amaryllis, thinking they were a cultivar of the South African native Amaryllis belladona.

In the rearranging of the garden I have slowly been transplanting some of the inhabitants of the car tyre holding pen to other spots around the garden.

One of the transplants to the eastern corner of the house where a year ago the Lionheart made a stone wall garden bed,  put out a strong and beautiful stem of blooms this week of waning wolf moon.

Bloom on the waning moon, bloom for sorrow and parting. True that.

A bit of superficial, amateur botanical sleuthing seems to indicate that these island denizens are probably descended from South American genetic stock and thus Hippeastrum.

I must admit I am both fascinated, and made quite confused. by the quibbling amongst botanists over the naming of things. Almost like classification and cataloguing librarians, they are, in their attention to the minutiae of difference and similarity.

Ah the naming of things!

That old toad in the hole

Someone was quick to take up residence in the new mulch mountain.

Eating worms in the garden. For realz. Except that I want earthworms to help break down that mulch pile.

Hmmm. Letʻs have some balance and bilateral discussions here, Mr Cane Toad.

Sustainability means that  I will create a huge pile of earthworm attracting mulch for you to hang out in and you agree to leave some worms to break down the mulch into the beginnings of soil for the next generation of plants.

Do we have a deal?

Mr Toad didnʻt blink and eye.

Outside looking in

The last few night I have spent quite a bit of time outside with māhealani - the full wolf moon.

I realised that outside looking in might just be what the future predicts.

Ouch! A huge part of me really does not want to make this move, does not want to throw Goldilocks to the bears.

Full wolf moon: lobo aullando

They call it the Wolf Moon.

The last full moon in the the little moonflower house on the big island.

A wounded wolf howling.