Smells of the season

He puko 'a kani 'aina.

A coral reef that grows into an island.

A person beginning in a small way gains steadily

until he becomes firmly established.

-'Olelo No'eau

The smell of apples bubbled in the big stainless pan, cinnamon added just the spice to concoct a smell of harvest. After three years, each year Pete learned a bit more about pruning the apple trees to allow a truly abundant crop of green and crispy apples. We still don't know their names, but it doesn't stop them from being quite delicious. The pan-full of cut and barely peeled apples have cooked down to a thick chunky mass, already tucked into freezer bags we'll eat them soon, and then later in the winter when the limbs and stems of the orchard are bare and bone-like against the cold times. 

An absolutely riotous wall of orange nasturtiums fill in my corner garden. A picture would say it, but, since we have no camera. The words substitute. Living in the eco-system of tall Evergreens, the growing season is late here. Where our neighbors with lots of sun have long ago harvested their beans ours are yet to come. But oh what a comedy of nature we do get to enjoy as the fertile beds and the late summer rains pump their mana into the seeds I planted in May. Along with those giant nasturtiums the happy trails of Scarlet Runner Bean flowers repeat the glow of orange hiding the wire fence, climbing up and beyond the red alder branches and tumble onto poles of bamboo I have installed to catch them. A trellis of palm-sized green leaves and clusters of scarlet flowers are a haven for the hummingbirds. I watch a tiny hummer eat to her heart's content, and then rest on the tip of the branch. I'm not sure, but though nasturtiums are less fragrant than some of the flowers that turn me on my head with their smell, nasturtiums must also be pollen-rich (why else the hummingbirds). My sinuses fill and my ear is plugged for days on end. But. That is what can happen.

Alongside the keyboard my work of writing and creating medicine cards from The Safety Pin Cafe tests my ability to adapt my capacity to use software. The art of making something is still the most joyous of activities, so I persist, and relish in the new season of learning and tinkering; pinning this with that. A riot of growth is still possible, and prevalent in autumn. I love that. Content in my progress, glad to be.

Keep a keen sense of observation … NOTICE

Two young friends from Hawaii are here in Washington. We are planning to drive north to Whidbey Island where they are staying, and visit. Pete and I enjoy being with young people. When I spoke with Becky this morning she sounded fresh and excited to be here. "Cold?" Yes, and it's the pine trees that are getting to her ... in a very good way. Like my young friend, the trees were the folk that totally overwhelmed me when I arrived in Washington as a young woman fresh from the valley of Kuli`ou`ou. Christmas Land! So her excitement is familiar and I notice how the feeling grows in me, too.

This morning as we enjoyed a slow and delicious wake-up Pete and I consciously noticed how different it is to be present for Spring. The bulbs are poking their tips through the ground, tree limbs are sending feelers out and the days are lengthening. Living on the Islands in the Pacific, the seasons change in a more subtle, though nontheless real, way. The sun rises at 7 am and sets at 6:30 pm this month. There's a fifty-fifty exposure to both light and dark. The body rises and sets with that same rhythm as well ... that is if you're not on the clock, the alarm clock. In tropical climates like Hawaii, plants grow all the time or at least it seems that way. Until you notice the plumeria looses all its leaves in the fall and comes back in the spring. I love how I noticed that for the first time when we lived on our family land again, more than twenty-five years later. It takes what it takes doesn't it?

One of the luxuries of this life we are living, and the one for which I give many thanks for on this sweatshirt and socks day, is the luxury of waking when my body is rested. The tiny kitchenette that is our living and sleeping space is easily shaded from the lights of the city in the distance. The heavy glass door seals most of the air and auto traffic, and the Austin Healthmate Jr. creates a white noise as it filters the air. When the nights pass disruptedly, I know I am blessed with sleeping-in until my body can make the move.

I notice the changes that take place in me here in Washington because my eyes and skin aren't getting much sunlight. My skin pales to a shade not much browner than Pete's and I don't look for sunglasses when the clouds clear. After living with sunshine and salt air, we Island transplants need to pay attention to the body in transition. Spring promises the uncoverings. Wherever we are on The Earth, the seasons affect us and if we notice, the seasons will embrace us more than shock. Thank you for wool and the wooly lambs who give us their fleece. I have never appreciated you more than I do now ... between winter and spring, wool is wonderful. I notice this.