Wheelbarrows of Fun

Having grown up in an early 1800's era farmhouse, the number of calluses on my hands usually outnumbered the rasberries on my knees (and being an avid tree-climber and outdoor addict, that's saying something).  The list of fix-up projects around the house only grew longer, especially in the summer.  I can't tell you how many times we re-built the fence around the house, and I'm not talking simply repainting it.  We've had multiple picket fences, the wall-kind of privacy fence, and more than one pasture-style fence comprised of thick-as-a-man's thigh posts 6 feet high with old barn wood nailed up as slats.  If the fence didn't need attention then the walkway to the mailbox needed to be torn up and rebuilt with bricks or large pieces of stone.  Being surrounded by old growth maples, there were always huge branches and thousands of leaves to pile, burn, and somehow or another remove from around the house.

In other words, I'm accustomed to getting my hands dirty.  And all the other parts of me dirty for that matter.  So, when Jeff's company planned a day to volunteer at Radnor Lake Natural Area, I was in.

Saturday morning was full of sun and encouraging our lazy butts to get out of bed at 6am.  After donning our matching t-shirts, our WHITE matching t-shirts, we devoured eggs and toast before making our way to Radnor Lake.

What a beautiful, peaceful place.  We must visit more often.  I was so glad that, prior to the group getting organized, Jeff and I strolled a little ways up the road to take in the bird calls and completely still lake.  I probably hadn't felt so relaxed in months, which is very much the opposite of what I felt like a few hours later.

Two park guide/ security guard/ ranger-like people greeted and thanked us all for coming out before splitting us up into two groups.  Our group followed LA (short for Lee Ann?) to the opposite side of the park on foot.  Most of us were confused by the 20-minute walk since it seemed that that time would be better spent working than a scenic stroll, but we were there to follow directions not make suggestions.  I chatted with a few of Jeff's coworkers while he made rounds making new acquaintances.

After a bend in the road, we reached a very long pile of mulch and an equally long row of wheelbarrows.  LA explained that due to flooding, sections of the hiking trails had been worn down.  Our task was to move as much of the 200 cubic yards of mulch as possible to another spot in the woods up the trail.  I went to grab a couple of bottles of water for Jeff and myself while he searched the tub of work gloves for two matching pairs.  Several people teased Jeff for taking so long, as it appeared he was trying to find the nicest pair.  LA then proceeded to hike the 25 or so of us up the trail while Jeff continued to sort through the tub.  He finally found two satisfactory pairs and jogged up the hill to meet me just to find out that he'd gotten me two right-hand gloves.  After all that!

LA marched us in at least 3/4 of a mile before she located the area that the much was to be dumped at.  Backing up and spreading out, fire brigade-style, we made our way back down the trail.  Jeff and I were about 8 people from the start of the trail with a bit more than 10 yards between us.  I put my right glove on then tried my other right glove backwards.  Though it wasn't the most comfortable, I'm pretty positive it was better than nothing.

Only a few minutes passed before the first full wheelbarrow made it's way to me.  Jeff passed it off with a peck on my cheek.  I continued pushing it, slightly up hill, to a nice lady in a tie-dye t-shirt from another organization.  We continued this while I counted the wheelbarrows.  At number 12, the first empty cart came back down the hill.  Our pace seemed commendable, the mosquitos were visiting some other part of the forest, and birds chirped about.  The morning was off to a great start.

By wheelbarrow 20, our peppiness slightly wore off but our spirits were still high.  We all greeted the hikers and walkers who passed by like it was our job.  A few good samaritans even took a wheelbarrow up the hill with them.  Though it seemed like a nice gesture, it threw a kink in our well-oiled machine.  From then on we had a major back-up a few volunteers down the line from where the hikers parted ways with the load.  In the meantime, a few people left and others took bathroom breaks, so we were moving wheelbarrows 30 to 40 yards each direction.  We had quite a queu of full and empty wheelbarrows.  Several of us began stacking one wheelbarrow inside another in order to move them out of the way quicker.  I lost count of the wheelbarrows.

By 10:00 we'd been going at it for over an hour and would've bet the farm that the huge pile of mulch was nearly gone.  We would've lost the every last chicken.  Only 1/4 of it had been loaded and moved!
With a lovely breeze and plenty of water, we high-fived each other and stepped up the pace.  The muscles in my forearms, shoulders, and neck were absolutely screaming by 11; I was doing everything in my power just to keep going.

But keep going we did until 11:30 when the last emptied wheelbarrow was tipped up on its nose against the fence.  The righty gloves kept my hands from getting dirty or renewing old calluses but left a rather unpleasant, musty smell.  The smelly group of us walked back over to the visitor center where we'd first met up to relax with a catered lunch from Jersey Mike's, which definitely hit the spot.  

It felt good to be tired and dirty from "playing" in the forest.  I'm already looking forward to the next time I'll be in need of some worker gloves.  I'll keep my fingers crossed for a matching pair.

Friday Night Lights

Growing up in Fowlerville, we oohed and aahed at the fireworks show put on for the 4th of July at the fairgrounds.  Some years we had to wear jackets and long pants because there was a chill present in the air.  Other years, we couldn't even play with sparklers for fear that we'd catch fire from the amount of mosquito spray we had on. 

The fireworks show would carry on for between 30 and 45 minutes.  Wow!, one might think.  How could a tiny speck of a town afford to host such a spectacular?  Well, it couldn't.  So instead, one bright burst of light would be sent into the sky every 3 to 5 minutes....sometimes more sporadically.  After a good while there would be a pause, longer than 5 minutes, before several rockets were ignited to close the show with a 30-second finale (I'm being generous).  We learned to wait and wait some more just in case there were multiple finales, which occurred a handful of times.

I like fireworks just as much as the next person, especially the sound of them.  Fireworks command attention.  They are loud.  They are bright.  They must be watched. 

Hilton Hawaiian Village is just a couple of blocks from our condo in Honolulu.  The area of town we lived in wasn't at all on the square system where roads run parallel to each other.  This is important information because we could hear the Friday night fireworks show from our condo.  We could even see light reflecting off many of the tall buildings near us; we just couldn't see them from our lanai.  Thankfully, one of the best places to be a spectator is at Ala Moana Beach Park, also a short walk from our place.  Here, families, couples, and fisherman all gather for the weekly fireworks show at 7:45pm.  Jeff and I loved to be in the crowd as often as we could.

Jeff and I made it a priority to attend on our final Friday in the islands, this time with his parents as guests.  We got right up to the shore and found a good spot in the grass.  Jeff always pointed out the colors reflecting on the boats in the harbor, on the water, and on the hotels nearby.  There were so many sights to take in for the 5, quick minutes of the show. 

Talk about a far cry from the show I grew up watching in Fowlerville.  There were no breaks in the action.  Reds, whites, blues, greens, such an array of colors.  I hold fond memories of nibbling on  breadsticks and sitting on the hood of the car to watch the fireworks show in Fowlerville but, nothing compares to seeing the lights above the water. 

The crowd, including Jeff and I, were silently mesmerized by the show; no oohing or aahing could be heard.  At the conclusion, the crowd broke out into applause as smoke drifted over the hotels and condo buildings.  Car alarms could be heard from the harbor's parking lot.  By 8:00, the dark, black park would be nearly emptied out. 

 

Jeff and I always strolled out slowly, hand in hand, taking in and savoring the moments. 

A Walk in the Rain

It's the kind of day that keeps soup makers and melancholy poets in business.  The blanket of clouds hanging above Nashville is endless.  How interesting that a cloud mass is often compared to a blanket, since certain types of clouds, like those lingering today, make me want to curl up in a fuzzy one and drift off. 

Instead of bunnies, dragons, and lawnmowers in the clouds, I was noticing coffee mugs slowly drifting overhead while running errands today.  After braving the crowded streets jammed with holiday shoppers, I decided that walking 5 minutes or so to the Whole Foods coffee counter near our apartment would calm my craving for a tasty, hot beverage.  And caffeine.

How lovely that 3 minutes into my walk, a fine misty rain began.  A cold, sticky misty rain.  Just a few weeks ago, on a 5-minute walk in Honolulu I would have likely encountered a little rain.Toto, we're not in Hawaii anymore.

The rain in Honolulu is mostly like a gathering of sweat, just enough to make you glow and highlight your features.  The rain in Honolulu is typically accompanied by (not followed by, mind you, but usually accompanied by) a rainbow. Or two.  Another amazing side effect of rain in Hawaii is waterfalls.  I love the wispy kind that resemble Rapunzel letting down her hair.

The rain in Nashville seeps into the skin and chills the bottom layers of your skin, so that the dampness takes a while to wear off.  But, to be fair, the rain in Nashville sits on the hilltops, barely letting the bare trees stay visible.  The rain in Nashville allows the hot hazelnut latte to warm my palms and my cheeks.

I have been missing the sights of Hawaii more than anything else since moving back to Nashville.  There are no doubts in my mind that moving back wasn't the absolute right choice for us.  However, I honestly miss parts of Hawaii like I miss a really, really good friend.  I find myself thinking about driving on the pali between cliffs as high as skyscrapers, so verdant and majestic.  I miss the shades of the ocean, blues and greens found no where else. I miss the constant warm breeze.  I miss the waves.

I believe it's true that when leaving Hawaii some of the spirit of Aloha followed me.  I hope I carry it with me for all the rest of my days.

Gummie Experiment

Vodka-soaked gummie bears?  This came up in conversation toward the end of a shift at the zoo not too long ago.  The keepers and other volunteers collected under the hau tree to escape the sun while waiting out the final 30 minutes until the lunch break.  Somehow the topic shifted to a news story about teenagers taking gummie bears to school to snack on, only these gummie bears deliver more than just a sugar high.  We were all astounded to hear that the tiny fruity candy could be a turned into an on-the-go jello shot.  I decided to investigate.

After a little searching on the Internet, I found many resources for how to go about intoxicating the gummies.  I bought a couple of brands of candy and used a variety of liquor, stuff we had in the fridge.  A common suggestion was to soak the gummies in liquor for 5 days to allow them time to fully saturate.  I chose to keep them submerged for a couple of days.

I layered the gummies in the bottom of the glasses before pouring in enough vodka or rum to cover them completely.  Then, I used cellophane and a rubber band to seal the glass.  I wrote on the rubber band to identify which liquor was in which.  After making room in the fridge, I let them sit overnight.

The following day I gave each glass a little shake and noticed that the bears were already growing, kind of like those little sponge pills that grow into a dinosaur when water is added to them.  I love those.

Just to determine how potent these little critters may be, I popped one into my mouth.  WHOA!  A handful of these would do a lot of damage.  The fumes alone are enough to make your eyes tear.  With a burning tongue, I put them back in the fridge.

Once ready, the bears take on a glassy look and are very swollen.

Jeff was willing to taste test, so I made some with Haribo, his favorite brand.  The looks he gave were priceless.

The flavor was not pleasing.  Neither was the burning sensation that lingered in the mouth.  Down the drain they went, though I took a few to pass out to the keepers at the zoo (to enjoy after hours, of course).  I can't imagine what they would taste like after 5 days bathing in the vodka.  I'll stick with a traditional jello shot in the future, or better yet, a good glass of wine.

Lei Making

In preparation for our upcoming performance at the hula festival, kumu held a lei-making get-together at her home Monday night for our halau.  Everyone was to pick 30 ti leaves, cut them, and prepare half (freeze them).  I hadn't much luck finding green ti leaf (red are everywhere) until I noticed them in the keiki zoo last week.  Nancy helped me pick all 30. Phew.

We all showed up to kumu's around 6pm for our 3-hour work session.  Each of us needed wrist and ankle lei, called kupe'e.  Since these are easiest to prepare, Leialoha wanted the newbies to start here, so she showed a few of us the twisting technique.  Four or five of the dozen people in attendance have already made these simple kupe'e.  To make, two ti leaves are knotted together and placed between the big and second toe.  Pulling taut, the right hand twists the leaf to the right then crosses it over the left.  This process continues until a new leaf must be added on for length.  When the desired length is achieved, another knot is tied. Kumu wanted these to wrap around our ankle/wrist twice. These pieces took only about 45 minutes to make.

Next, Leialoha began demonstrating how to make the lei.  She was one of two people who knew how to do this.  This process was more complicated than making the kupe'e and made easier when working in pairs.  After we'd cut a pile of leaves into smaller strips, Lani and I were ready to begin.  This lei begins with two leaves being knotted together. The twisting is the same as for the kupe'e, only after every other twist, 3 pinched ti leaf strips are added in.  This is the hardest part to do one-handed.  I did all the twisting and pulling while Lani handed me the 3 pinched leaves.  Though I did the brunt of the work, it was still quicker than making it all on my own.  Each of these lei had to be six feet long and took roughly an hour to make.

Kumu is on the far right.

 

Taking these pictures with my left, sticky hand, was not easy.

By the time we finished my lei, my hands and foot were all green and sticky from the leaf juice.  My back was beginning to hurt like crazy as were my knees.  The sitting positions needed to do this work were terribly uncomfortable, especially for hours.  After rinsing my hands off, we began preparing new leaves for Lani's lei.  I think it was nearing 8 at this time, which was a bad sign, since we all thought we'd be done by 9 at the latest.  With another lei to make, along with a lei po'o, the headpiece, I was expecting to be at kumu's much later.  My stomach was beginning to get angry and my hand was already losing grip.

Lani and I worked feverishly to complete her lei in less time than it took to make the first one.  We did a good job and cut off a little time.  Meanwhile, the older ladies in the group took to telling somewhat inappropriate stories, giggling to themselves and causing brows to raise.  It was quite funny.  Kumu is not bashful, that's for sure!

Leialoha was able to show four of us how to make the lei po'o, the spiky head wreath.  I was pretty disappointed to find out that it's the most difficult to make.  At 8:45pm, covered in green goop, with incredibly stiff muscles, and an empty stomach, I was not excited to be undertaking the biggest challenge of the night.  And, most of Lani's leaves and mine had been used by those around us, so we were left with extra cutting and preparing for much longer than others.  Boy, Lani was irritated at that!  I had been looking forward to this new experience, but my aching muscles were distracting me from enjoying much of the project.

The lei po'o is a braid, not a twist.  Three ti leaves are knotted together, placed in between the toes and braided for an inch or so.  This is where it gets very tricky.  Two cut, pinched ti leaf strips are placed in the braid.  One long strand ti leaf crosses over, the small pieces are then folded up (in half) then another set of two ti leaves are pinched and added.  It's not intuitive and super easy to mess up, especially when adding in leaves to make the strands longer.  A lady sitting next to me (can't remember how to say her Hawaiian name) got about 6 inches in when she got stuck.  Leialoha tried to help but ended up having to take it all apart and restart. 

Lani and another lady worked together, and I made mine by myself.  We were all getting cranky and sore.  Finally, just before 10pm, I finished my last piece.  I helped clean up a bit then began the drive back over the mountains.  Boy, did it feel good to sit in a seat!  My back!  Ouch!  I was relieved that the traffic home was light, even near our house where the APEC craziness is in full swing.

My pile of lei.

My lei are in two containers taking up quite a bit of space in the refrigerator.  I hope they stay looking fresh for our performance this weekend! 

Breadfruit Experiment

Next time you visit the Honolulu Zoo, be sure to stop in the Keiki Zoo.  Just to the left of the entrance, near the overstocked Koi pond that also has as few ducks milling about, is the breadfruit tree that all of the Samoan security guards lust over.  This tree has the tastiest breadfruit around, and I got to have some.  Twice.

I'd noticed the gigantic green orbs while raking the grass near the pond and asked about them during a casual conversation with Les, a kind zoo volunteer I've met recently.  I found myself involved in a new project.  Les couldn't believe that I'd never had breadfruit, deciding to take matters into his own hands immediately.  The final ninety minutes of the zoo shift finds the keepers and volunteers searching for odd jobs to do to stay busy, talking, or spending time on smartphones, so we were all in for a little action.  A small group of us followed Les to the massive tree, our interest instantly piqued when he came out of the shed with a huge fishing net.  It didn't look like he was interested in the low hanging fruit.

A breadfruit that's ready to be eaten will have white milky droppings all over it, appearing to have been recently pooped on by one of the feral pigeons.  It certainly doesn't look appealing at first glance.  After Les reached and tugged at a high, oozing breadfruit, we all heard a, "Dunk!" before a big splash startled the ducks.  The breadfruit had fallen into the pond.  Ick.  Les fished it out and handed it to me, sopping wet and sticky.  All I could do was smile and say thanks.

With fifteen minutes left of our shift, I held onto the giant ball, similar in size to a coconut, trying not to look awkward.  Several visitors asked me what I had, and why.  There were no real easy answers.  Les shared his methods for cooking the starch, but no one was sure about how to tell when it would be ripe enough to eat.  When the security guard came to relieve us (they keep watch of the petting areas while everyone takes lunch), I asked him for some tips, which he was happy to share.

The nice Samoan told me to keep my new prize on the counter at home for a couple of days to let it get a little soft, like an avocado.  In the meantime, I looked online to find recipes and suggestions for how to prepare it.  The security guard wasn't kidding when he told me to use an empty can to shave off its skin.  I found a YouTube video that did just that.  Well, since we're leasing a furnished condo, I decided to avoid ruining a knife trying to cut a can of beans in half, especially since I've broken 3 or 4 water glasses and two wine glasses in the past 5 months.  It's not me; they're super cheap.  And, I'm klutzy.  Mostly, they're super cheap.

Notice the poop-like white milky markings.  I'm not too sure what the dark spot are, but no one seemed alarmed.

I chose the easiest method: to just cut the thing open with a good ole fashioned knife, chop it up into cubes, then boil it for a few minutes.  I wasn't making this for a dinner party or anything, more because Les picked it for me.  I didn't expect to get Jeff to eat much and didn't want to take too much time preparing anything gourmet.  The thing did fall into a nasty pond for heaven's sake.  I guess Jamaican style would've been even easier, since after a couple of cuts, the whole thing goes in the oven to bake for an hour.  As previously stated, we're leasing a condo. 

I only used a quarter, not intending to ruin my dinner.  After 10 minutes in boiling water, I called it ready.  A tiny bit of butter, salt, and pepper, and it's done. 

Absolutely tasted like a potato with a hint of sweet at the finish.  Also, it's a touch stickier than potato.  I convinced Jeff to take a bite.  He made a face during the entire process, even while just picking up a fork to stab a chunk.  He didn't mind it but has preconceived notions about texture and sets himself up.  I don't expect that this will become a staple in our household.

The next week at the zoo, I told of my tasting and enjoyment of preparing the breadfruit.  One of the zoo volunteers is a successful chef who gloated about his amazing breadfruit dishes.  This spurred on the suggestion to hold a potluck lunch where Tony would make us a scrumptious dish using the breadfruit from the zoo.  He did not let us down.  I'm not sure what was in his mash besides butter, chives, salt, and pepper, but it was super good.  I even had seconds. 

Kaua'i Weekend - Part 2

Normally, I love waking up to the sound of rain.  By the last morning of our brief stay on Kaua'i, my cup had runneth over, quite literally, with the inches of precipitation that ruled our mini-vacation.  My mood was very melancholy while Jeff and I dressed to go out for breakfast.  With rain jackets and umbrellas, we walked a short way to a small cafe.  Just before getting inside, another drenching downpour began, so we rushed inside, thankful for an open table.

While waiting for our food, watching the raindrops streak the windowpanes, a semi-permanent scowl took over my face.  I was so disappointed that the rain would not let up and was sure that our flight to see the Napali Coast would be canceled.  Just prior to leaving the restaurant, the downpour grew in intensity, curtaining the road.  My phone rang at about the same time.  The tour company was calling to confirm our flight that was set to take off in two hours.  The kind lady on the phone comforted my fears by telling me that the radar reports the office had projected that the system was breaking up and should be moving off island within the hour.  I was hopeful.

On our way to the airport, Jeff and I stopped at a rushing waterfall that was easily accessible from the road and drove down a few country roads.  The clouds were, indeed, beginning to part.  By the time we pulled into the airport, most of the blue sky was visible, and the hot sun forced us to take off our jackets.

The Napali Coast must be seen from the air or a boat.  Since a bucket list item of mine was to see an active volcano from a helicopter, we chose to go the more cost effective route and take a small plane.  Wings Over Kaua'i garnered great reviews on TripAdvisor and was very easy to communicate with, so we booked through them.  From the first moments of our arrival to the final goodbye, the customer service was great.  The seating is computerized using each passenger's weight to properly balance the plane.  Jeff got to sit in the seat next to the pilot with me directly behind.  I was a little jealous but mostly really excited for him.

Jeff was put to work in the co-pilot's seat, going through the pre-flight check-list with the pilot.  I got a kick out of listening to the exchange on the headset.  Our pilot was nice enough and shared quite a lot of information throughout the flight.

The sight of the island from above is unique and highlightes the changing landscape, vibrant colors of the farms, and the picturesque coastline.  By far, the Napali Coast was the most scenic part of the tour and well worth the cost for the tour by air, which is a little pricier than a boat ride.  Photos can't do this amazing geologic wonder justice (especially with low level clouds nearby).  The cliffs rise thousands of feet vertically from the ocean, black and green against the surreal blue of the Pacific. 

 

Thanks to the rain I'd been cursing, dozens of new wispy waterfalls cascaded down the cliffs.  The scenery was so impressive.  Rounding the leeward coast on our way to the northern side, the mist over took the tops of the cliffs, giving it all a dreamlike feel. 

After our safe, smooth landing, Jeff and I were new people.  The fantastic tour cured our irritation with Mother Nature and set us up to make the most of our last hours on the island.  Driving counterclockwise up the coast, we made our way to the Kilauea Lighthouse, the northern most point in Hawaii (main islands).  The views were spectacular from this point.  While scanning the waters for whales, Jeff readied the camera. Being patient...and lucky...paid off.  We were thrilled to see fins flapping and water shooting from blow holes.  We saw at least three whales off the coast.  Though difficult to tell without zooming in, Jeff captured photographic evidence of a whale tail.  The day was just getting better and better.

Before leaving the north point, we walked around a wildlife refuge and saw thousands of birds and more gorgeous breaking surf.  About halfway back to the airport for our return trip home to Honolulu, we found a path along the coast to stroll.  Within easy walking distance was a shave ice stand, one of the best we've had even months later.  With ono shave ice in hand, we enjoyed our walk along Kaua'i's windward coast.  

The last day of our trip held my favorite moments of the entire time on Kaua'i.  I'm thankful that it wasn't a wash afterall.