Ho'omanawanui ... Jera ... patience ... harvest

April in the woods is a blast!  A blast of unexpectedly bang on the roof blast of ice pellets.  Incredible shades of light blast.  Cool wood scented blasts of fresh air.  Dark blasts of night-time quiet.  Comforting blasts of warmth in the tiny vardo we call home blasts.  Has it been too long in coming these blasts? Have we suffered loss after loss too long?

April in the woods is a blast!  Duck waddles,  hens crow blast.  One gate, two gates, three gates. God I think we must have ten gates. Opening into, leaving behind.  All kinds of blasts from the past gates.  We have peas growing, sunflowers ready to blast out of dark lepo.  Has it been too long in coming these waddles,  crows, gates, peas and sunflowers out of the dark lepo blasts?

In another version of the story maybe.
This time the story ends with.  No not so very long.
This time we tell a different story and there's nothing so wrong.
Patience.  Long Harvest. Ho'omanawanui.  Jera.  Old words. New story. What a blast!

Ho'omanawanui ...Practice patience and endurance … TIMING IS DIVINE

Mahina is bright in the southwestern room  of the sky this morning.  The Winter Solstice just passed came with a lunar eclipse and there is a sense of ho'omanawanui here in the forest.  Our kitty JOTS is pressed up against my okole cleaning herself.  The huntress is healing from a wound.  We help out with poltices of freshly juiced wheatgrass.  Pete runs the long stems of grass through the juicer and I take the soppy pulp to her wound, run the juice down her back.  She licks the stuff into her.  Time and time again the healing green juice has been our first aid for wounds and imbalances.  In the summer and fall we grew the grass and sold trays of it to a friend who needed to supplement her regime for healing.  When it got to cold to grow it here in the wood I found trays of it at our local community market The Goose.  Where ever we've been Pete has soaked, sprouted and grown the powerful oxygen-rich seeds.

Living close to the Papa, close to the Earth like we are the meaning of ho'omanawanui grows.  Life is more purposeful when you care for home in 8x10 foot pods of space.  This season, our third winter of living from a vardo, we have a second shelter from which we cook, store our ukana (stuff) and generally hang out.  It's a quonset made from an old green house frame, covered in metal siding and floored in Pete's unique 4x4 foot tile pads. There are four of these tile pads fitted onto a gravel bed for our floor. What we did under the sky and then under plastic tarps has moved into the Quonset.  My family helped us out with a second Radiant Electric Heater, we use it in the Quonset.  Mahalo to our Waimanalo 'ohana.  There's little insulation now, so it's cooler than the vardo.  Slowly and patiently we learn what we can do to insulate with materials that will not cause reactions.  Slowly it warms up in here and I can work at the keyboard awhile.  It has been many months since we have had a computer, or access to internet.  Today we have both, and yet we know this could change.

We have dreamed about being somewhere on the Earth where shared resources, common interests, and commitment to chemical free fresh-air living was present.  Slowly over the passed three years we have found pieces of this dream.  All along Ke Akua and the guardians Na aumakua have been there to direct the timing.  Some things, some relationships, many beliefs and practices have changed.  We have learned who we are becoming everyday.  We are growing older and wisdom comes with each speed bump we meet along the way.  Speed bumps force you to slow down or break down.  Funny how we live in the woods with a road filled with huge speed bumps.