For Christmas I polished my toenails–didn’t want you to think I had gone completely primitive.
For Christmas Eve I painted the living room–haven’t finished.
For Christmas Day, Daughter Darling Baby Darling and I took ourselves to the beach.
We know if we drive far enough we will eventually find water, but so far, we hadn't seen much of it. Daughter Darling said, "Here I live in Hawaii, and can't find the ocean."
We wanted a sandy beach, not lava encrusted one, and so we drove about an hour and a half to the Black Sands Beach, where Hawaii spread herself full-out in a glorious display of wind, surf, palm trees, crystalline water, and an estuary adjacent where water lilies blossomed and a ducky swam through.
And it was there we saw three Hawksbill turtles sunning themselves on the beach.
The black sand at water’s edge–fresh water–where it trickled under the sand running into little pools, Kauila's gift, looked and felt like Caviar.
Baby D played in the Caviar sand, mushing it through his fingers, smearing his legs and tasting it occasionally. I believe he would have spent the entire day there given the opportunity.
After the beach we drove into Naalelehu and had our Christmas meal at Hona Hou, the southernmost restaurant in the United States.
And so back home, and today, Sunday, in the early hours, it is raining. For the last four days, however, we have had sunshiny glorious weather, and we got the shipping container emptied after 19 loads to the house, the last four with help.
There are angels in Hawaii.
This is the way it works: You go to the dump--called a transfer station--and find two fellows looking for yard work. You hire them, and they bring two others to finish emptying the shipping container–affectionally known as The POD. (I know, a company name, but the POD in the Papaya Field sounds better than the shipping container in the Papaya Field.)
You go to the Propane store and ask if they will install batteries. No, but the man standing next to you says he will do it for $65.00. After installing 12 new batteries, Pete helps you start the John Deere “Gater” that ran out of gas. Do you know where the carbonator is? I didn’t, but he did, and with “Quick Start” squirted and gas primed you get the Gater running.
You see a man walking down the street with a white “Silky” (breed of chicken) on his shoulder–you stop–he shows you three chicks from his back pack. They stand, not jumping off, not pooping on your car window sill. He has chickens for sale–you have been wanting chickens.
Scenes from Hawaii.
You sit outside the Post Office and watch a lady limping toward her house, and from the house an orange cat limps, a mirror image, toward her.
A man sits up a hot dog stand in the Y between the two highways and supplies lunch for two weary travelers 3 days running. (Guess who?)
You follow the moving fellows behind their truck and watch the play, the friendly boxing, the jumping off the truck, road surfing behind it, catching overhead branches.
You are painting and an anole (small lizard) perches on the edge of the paint tray–you shoo him away lest he fall in and paint a track across your floor or the wall.
A couple is cutting the enormous grass that grows beside the road; you stop and thank them for widening the road. They tell you they are cutting it for their horses who love it. It is not sugar cane they say, but the horses love that too.
About 15 people wave as they pass you on the road, and about 15 mongooses cross it before you reach the highway.
You start the Gater and drive up the top 5 acres of your property and stop and pick oranges and star fruits and drive back with the evening wind ruffling your hair and it feels almost as good as a horseback ride.
And then you go to the beach and find that the turtles...
