Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
The Fading Night
I love to wake up in the early morning while it's still dark out. I brew a cup of coffee. Dark. Black. Stout. I sit on my balcony and wait for the sun to rise. The world is so still and so quiet. Only the breeze through the trees can be heard and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The roosters are just about ready to begin crowing but not just yet. Sometimes, on a night where the moon is full, the early morning is awash with moon beams. It casts an eerie glow across the landscape. And when the moon is absent the sky is littered with millions of stars, twinkling and shining it's dim light upon the earth. The scent of the ocean and the smell of white and yellow ginger wafts its way through the tropical air.
This is the most peaceful time of my day. I sit and ponder my mood and the ever changing circumstances of my life.
Most times, I think, "There has to be more to life than clocking in everyday."
"Surely, I was NOT born on this planet to push meaningless paperwork."
I was born to write and to create art with words on a page. I say that with extreme confidence that I am here to tell the stories that are inside of me. I was born to share my hurts and my pains, my struggles and my triumphs, my happiness and my joy. And I was made to do it in a way that is captured so genuinely and arrives on the page from someplace deep inside me, touched by the goddess within.
Every morning is like the previous, after the darkest night, the cock begins to crow announcing the imminent arrival of the morning sun. Both near and off in the distance, the rooster's bark pierces the silence of the morning. My coffee has cooled to a comfortable warmth and its stout bitterness is actually sweet on my tongue. My peaceful meditation returns to thoughts of the precarious situation called my life. In recent months, every pondering has become a struggle to understand the many changes happening to me and around me. I am in a position to make my life everything I want it to be. As exciting as that may seem, it frightens me. It calls for me to be more courageous than I have ever needed to be. The changes force me to stand erect and move in the direction of my destiny, alone, with no one to hold my hand through the painful process of CHANGE.
Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes into hours. As I look toward the east, the dark of night begins to vanish. Slowly, ever so gently, the heavens illuminate the coming of the sun. I can see a glowing ball of fire slowly breach the ocean horizon. The sun's rays turn the heavens into brilliant hues of pink and orange against the purple of the fading night. I am always silenced and awestruck by the beauty of the rising sun upon the Pacific horizon. Even as a young girl, my summer mornings were spent waking early to witness this event. Every day I knew the sun would rise and the darkness would disappear.
The world begins to come alive with sound. Several varieties of birds chirp and sing in a loud array of harmonies. They share beautiful songs of gratitude to accent the awakening earth. Ocean breezes stir the palm trees. Humans begin to stir as I start to hear the whirr sound of cars on the road. I hear my neighbors bustling in their driveways as car doors begin to open and engines start revving. And the light chatter from sleepy children and sleepier parents add to the sounds of the awakening world.
Today, unlike any other day prior, I can see my purpose so clear. It is a brand new day and a new era in the world of NeenaLove. My soul can feel my ancestors gently prodding me into the light of the morning sun. Previous lifetimes have groomed me for this moment and I welcome these changes with new courage. The heartbreak of my past will fade like the night and my sun will rise in glorious brilliance on the life that I was destined to live.
Around Town: Lyon Arboretum
Lyon Arboretum
3860 Manoa Road
Honolulu, Hawaii
I had an awesome day today. I went with my father and my cousin to Lyon Arboretum in Manoa Valley. Aside from my desire to write, farming & gardening is an equal passion of mine. I love plants, trees and all the beauty in nature. Meet me -- writer-slash-farmer.
My father has had some extra time on his hands lately. For my own selfish reasons but mostly for the perpetuation of knowledge, I have begged him to help me start planting again. I have this goal to be a vendor in the Farm Fair at Kualoa Ranch this coming July. We are at the perfect time to start getting some plants ready to sell. This desire led our little contingency to the Lyon Arboretum for some inspiration. There was so much inspiration there. I felt so little against the 60 foot banyan trees and palm trees. I am always amazed by the natural wonders on the planet.
3860 Manoa Road
Honolulu, Hawaii
I had an awesome day today. I went with my father and my cousin to Lyon Arboretum in Manoa Valley. Aside from my desire to write, farming & gardening is an equal passion of mine. I love plants, trees and all the beauty in nature. Meet me -- writer-slash-farmer.
My father has had some extra time on his hands lately. For my own selfish reasons but mostly for the perpetuation of knowledge, I have begged him to help me start planting again. I have this goal to be a vendor in the Farm Fair at Kualoa Ranch this coming July. We are at the perfect time to start getting some plants ready to sell. This desire led our little contingency to the Lyon Arboretum for some inspiration. There was so much inspiration there. I felt so little against the 60 foot banyan trees and palm trees. I am always amazed by the natural wonders on the planet.
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Beautiful Ti Plants in the parking area of the Lyon Arboretum! This will be my new passion. |
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I have no clue what this is but it reminds me of Hydrangeas... very, very beautiful. |
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More Ti plants. The mid 90's, the ti plant was the rage. I'm about to bring it back because it is so beautiful and such a part of my Hawaiian heritage. |
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This is a beautiful field with a gorgeous tree. One day, I will have a beautiful field like this in my yard. |
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Cute bridge. I bet this would be a great venue for a special event like a wedding. |
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This mini-plaque was on a bench. It gave me chills when I read it. |
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Ombre in nature! |
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The canopy reminded me of the movie Avatar. The forests in the movie were computer generated but here in Hawai'i we can visit the Rain Forest right in our back yard. |
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What a beautiful color. It looks like a Lehua flower. I don't know what this is. |
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I met Buddha along my journey today. |
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Beautiful location to contemplate life and the meaning of life. |
PHOTO BLOG: My Home
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Such an interesting tree; the sky was a perfect backdrop as well as the ocean. |
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I love to see fisherman out and about. It lets me know that the ocean still teems with life. |
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early evening: such a beautiful time of the day |
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the color of the grass is so mesmerizing |
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rocks that are normally underwater are fully exposed... beautiful! |
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i just love that patch of coconut trees. |
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walking the reef reminds me of my momz who used to take us out all the time. |
Slowing Down
It was such a gorgeous morning. I cannot be anything but grateful for the abundance of life in the universe. |
My mother passed on June 30th.
In the time that has followed her passing, I have "slowed down" quite a bit. Not a depressed kind of slow down but more of a slow down realization of what is truly important in my life.
Today, I placed myself in nature. As I sat on the beach at Pounders listening to the ocean crash against the shore and the wind whipping past me, I remembered how small I am in relation to the wide universe. Feelings of gratitude came over me. Gratitude for the life of my mother and everything she was able to instill in me. Gratitude for a full life, for my health and strength, for my husband and wonderful family. I am so grateful for this beautiful earth.
After I left the shore, I made my way to the Ma'akua trail behind where I live. The different birds singing and chirping is such a beautiful sound. That I'm here, able to take in the Creator's bounty with all six senses, is humbling.
Thank you for today, for right here and now.
Sun Setting on 2010
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Photo Blog: Thanksgiving Point, Utah
This past weekend I was able to visit the Botanical Gardens at Thanksgiving Point. I was thoroughly impressed with the beautiful surroundings. As soon as you exit the ticketing area and onto the path that leads to the main gardens, the sound of rushing water enters the ear canal. For me, that is always a comforting sound. Some of the flowers were in bloom. I can imagine what it will be like in a few weeks when nearly all of the tulips are in full bloom and all the other flowers also.
I hope you enjoy these beautiful pictures. I took them with my camera phone. I'm amazed at how good the pictures come out. I should have taken my "real" camera with me but I didn't think we'd be able to leisurely stroll around the grounds. Absolutely gorgeous!
Water rushing over pebbles and stones and river rock is not only beautiful but the sound... priceless!
I hope you enjoy these beautiful pictures. I took them with my camera phone. I'm amazed at how good the pictures come out. I should have taken my "real" camera with me but I didn't think we'd be able to leisurely stroll around the grounds. Absolutely gorgeous!
Waterfalls are so beautiful! The way it erodes away the rock and makes it smooth is such an amazing feat. Sea Glass starts out as a regular piece of glass that is dropped into the ocean and is worn away by the ocean, the tides, and the abrasive sand. God's world is so perfect!
Of Mangos and Belly Aches
Seated beneath a mango tree on a bench built by my uncle is the first time I recall ever being sick to my stomach. Above me the mango tree’s large limbs branched out and extended high into the air. Many weeks before, the leaves were several shades of bright pinks with tiny blossoms. In a relatively dry season, the flowers would result in mangos so numerous that the branches would droop to the earth, heavy with fruit. If the spring and summer were particularly wet, there would be no fruit to enjoy, just a cool, shady spot to rest from the humidity of a Hawaiian summer. That summer, the first time I recall every being sick to my stomach, the mango tree was heavy with fruit. It was the summer that I turned six.
The mango tree sat at the edge of one of my grandmothers many gardens. Its large trunk supported the foliage that sat atop it and shook when the trade winds blew in from off the Pacific Ocean. Surrounding the mango tree were several different types of tropical plants and flowers and different fruit trees. Red ginger marked the border on the mauka end of the garden, along with Birds of Paradise and other types of ginger. Banana trees bordered the makai end. At the opposite border, across the mango tree, were several Tahitian Gardenia bushes. Their distinct, white flowers were a stark contrast to the vibrant shades of green upon its leaves. The delicate flowers are the size of the palm of my hand and its scent is so intoxicating.
In the center of the garden were more tropical flowers. The vision of plumeria trees laden with yellow and pink hues of blossoms clustered together was always a site to behold. It’s blossoming marked the beginning of summer. The fragrance, so captivating, always took my breath away. There were also rows and rows of ‘ilima plants. The ‘ilima flower is a shade of yellow-orange and is paper-thin and very delicate. At its fullest height, the shrub may reach four feet. Because it required hundreds of flowers to string together one lei, the ‘ilima lei even today, is a prized gift.
Summer break was often spent at “Gramma’s” house. She lived thirty minutes from where we lived. My father would drop off my brother and I at Gramma’s, early in the morning, as he made his way to work. It was almost always dark when we arrived. We would hurry in and sleep until the suns rays gently woke us. Before we could eat breakfast, my cousins that lived next door to Gramma would pick us up and we would head to the gardens on the property. Our main chore for the day was to pick all the flowers from the trees so that Aunty Iwa , my father’s sister, could string lei’s to be sold at the local florist. The older cousins picked the delicate ‘ilima and the flowers at the tops of the plumeria tree, while I was relegated to picking the good plumeria’s that had fallen to the ground. By 7 a.m. the flowers were picked, washed, and prepared for Aunty Iwa. We’d cover her living room floor with old newspapers and separate the flowers by type and color. By 9 a.m. Aunty Iwa would have several lei’s ready for market. More cousins would show up by mid-morning. Gramma and Aunty Iwa were the babysitters for all of us. I had not known then how difficult it must have been to keep eleven of us busy and fed everyday, all throughout the summer.
The typical Hawaiian summer was almost always full of blue skies, puffy white clouds, and moist, humid air. Sometimes the humidity was so heavy, so thick, that relief could only be found in the ocean. On those days, we’d walk to the beach with my Gramma leading the pack and the older cousins at the back, making sure that no one would get lost along the way. Rainy days we’d spend playing board games in the carport or playing hopscotch. We rarely ever spent any time in front of the television. There always seemed to be more important things to do like playing hide and seek in the gardens or touch football in Gramma’s large, dirt and gravel driveway. Sometimes my older girl cousins would take me to play school or bank or store. I was always stuck being the student or the customer, never the teacher, teller, or cashier. I remember once, we set up chairs to look like an airplane and we pretended we were stewardesses.
On the sunniest days, when all you could see for miles was the blue sky, and there was no respite from the blazing sun, we’d climb the giant mango tree to keep cool. The gentle breeze drowned out the sound of the mynah birds squawking. I imagine they were complaining about the humidity. On one particular day, the first time I ever felt sick to my stomach, I climbed midway up the tree. From my vantage point, I peeked into the adjacent garden and could see the large guava tree. Along the fence behind the guava tree were several passion fruit vines and along side the fence was a row of papaya trees. The mango tree was heavy with fruit that season and the limbs were beginning to bow. Certainly we didn’t want the limbs to break so it was necessary for us to relieve the tree of some of its fruit, even though they were green and unripe. I began picking the largest of the mangos and threw them to the ground. Whoever was on the ground collected the mangos and stowed them in buckets. By the end of the day, the mangos would be peeled, sliced, pickled, jarred then given away to the neighbors. There was always extra for the neighbors and any of Gramma’s visitors.
That day, my cousin had brought along a glass jar full of a dark liquid. He sat on the bench beneath the tree, pulled out his pocketknife and began paring the green mango. I watched him, from where I was perched in the mango tree, open the glass jar and slice the green mango into it. My other cousins gathered around him and watched him pare and slice two more mangos. He replaced the lid and they all took turns shaking the jar. After everyone had a turn, they opened the jar and began to eat the mango. It looked so delicious and refreshing and as my cousins ate, they made these noises indicating how much they were enjoying it. I climbed down and had my first taste of shoyu-mango. The dark liquid was made of soy sauce and brown sugar. It was so scrumptious. I imagine that the combination of salt, sweet, and the tartness of the unripe mango pleased every taste bud on my tongue. Also, the obvious delight on everyone’s face added to my enjoyment. When the mango in the jar had run out, my cousin pared and sliced more as we ate and repeated the process until not a drop of sauce was left in the jar.
As soon as the sauce was gone, the excitement of the new experience wore off, and my six-year old belly was left with the biggest ache I had ever known. I don’t remember how long it ached but I do remember that wonderful taste. If there had been more sauce, I’d have drank it up like a tall, glass of water. My brother and my cousins continued with the chores associated with pickling the mangos and I was left, seated on a bench built by my uncle, under a mango tree having the time of my life.
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