Monday, October 22, 2018. Another??? Already? The icebox, adaptability, and variability

Maybe itʻs the regular walking.  Or something...

So.  Leon and Brian built my little house in the forest starting in November 1984.  I moved in in April 1985.  "Little" = a 16 x 24 main floor, a 10 x 16 loft, and the shower on the back porch.  Added a 12 x 12 bedroom downstairs about 10 or 12 years ago.  Ma gave me an icebox to get started.  It was a GE, same brand we had ever since I can remember.  In Honokaʻa, the silver swirly GE logo on the door was used by Ma to check my eyes when I was in third grade.  We had had one of those exams in school - the one with all the "E"s facing in different directions - and you had to hold out your hand to match what you saw.

Joanne Ahuna went home and told her mom that I couldnʻt see.  Her mom Margie called my mom...thus the impromptu test.

And so my sentimental fondness for GE iceboxes.  Laugh or chuckle as is your wont.  And I just found the original receipt, The Book, and the computer-punched card (Remember?) for the warranty.  You supposed to keep ʻum:

A few weeks ago, 33.5 YEARS after Ma bought my icebox from LK Appliance in Hilo, it started making funnykine noises off and on.  From the freezer compartment.  Stevie said was the bearings in the motor.  Better get a new one.  MAN!!!

So I did.  A Whirlpool.  With an icemaker that Stevie and Iris took out because I neva laik um.  I doubt very very much that the new one will last even half as long as the old one.  And people wonder why I get nuha.  Built in obsolescence.  Gotta keep buying new ones when the old ones broke to keep The Economy going.  Auē!

I know...pua ting me...

And now, not even a tangent...A complete Change of Topic...

The forest in which I built my home is ʻōhiʻa dominant, with an understory of hāpuʻu pulu, and other rain forest species.  Including a happyface spider I saw on my shower head not that long ago...

Maybe youʻll be able to see the smiling face...

Some folks like to tell the story of ʻŌhiʻa and Lehua, the fated lovers, so listeners are able to "connect" with the trees.  "Why?" I ask?  Why repeat a made-up story, when reality is so much more fascinating.  According to a report published recently, ʻōhiʻa lehua came here from Tasmania...maybe island-hopping along the way.  Trees canʻt sail the ocean sapphire (unless theyʻre made into waʻa or float as logs), but their ʻanoʻano (seeds), especially those of ʻōhiʻa, are eminently waftable.  See???

Theyʻre tiny.  Yes, thatʻs a US Twenty-Five Cent piece.  A quarter.  And those are indeed ʻōhiʻa seeds.  Easy to be blown on the wind.  And maybe the seeds are so abundant, or because its the nature of Metrosideros polymorpha to be so variable, every single tree of my acquaintance is different.  Poly = many, morpha = forms.  Many, many different forms.  Liko (young leaf shoots), pua lehua (the flowers), the form of the tree as a whole; all are different and variable.

The photo collage of liko (above) is courtesy of Nate Yuen, and can be found on his sometimes vertiginous website:

http://hawaiianforest.com/wp/

Liko tea is excellent for persistent coughing.  I favor the shiny red ones as in the lower right photo.  For some reason the scent is evocative of the seashore.  Kinda limu-ish.  At least to my nose.

And, I believe, that like ʻāhinahina (silverswords), the fuzzy leaves shield from ultraviolet rays at higher elevations.  I think.  ʻŌhiʻa with pubescent (fuzzy) liko seem to be happier in deserts too, while the glabrous (smooth) ones can handle rainforest climate better.  They all seem to grow where ever, but trends are seen.

Lehua in all its kalakoa-ness.  These were gathered around our Waimea a few years ago by friend Alan Cressler.  Check out his flickr site for amazing photographs.

kala.koa
nvs. Calico; variegated in color, as of croton leaves, or of a pinto horse spotted with several colors; printed cotton cloth (modern); said also of scars left after impetigo. Eng.

Just like us, each ʻōhia tree is different.  Variable.  And they are adapted, methinks because of their variations, to living in many many different ecosystems and niches.  The desert of Kekahawaiʻole near Keāhole, dryland forests around Puawaa, bogs on the upper reaches of Kohala, massive trees are found in the mesic (kinda wet, kinda dry) forests of Kīpukakī and Kīpukapuaulu in the park, treeline on nā mauna Loa and Kea, the pali Hāmākua where koaʻe lele, and rainforests young and old...all are home for ʻōhiʻa lehua.

Hawaiʻi nei has lots of examples of variability and adaptability:  our three kōlea (the plant ones):  kōlea (Kīpukapuaulu and Kalōpā for example), kōlea lau liʻi (lots on the ʻaʻā flow by Naulu forest in the park), and kōlea lau nui (in the forest from the Devastation Trail Parking Lot toward Keanakākoʻi).  Regular-sized leaf, small leaf, big leaf.  All kōlea.  And there are many examples of other plants that are variable and adapted to life in different circumstances.  Just as we should be.

I know...Sometimes hard.  You get used to something (a 33.5 year old icebox), and then we have to adjust to something new.

OK.  That wraps it up for today...

As always, with aloha, till maybe Thursday or so...

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com

Sunday, October 21, 2018. Just a brief note...

Itʻs been a pleasant season up here.  Today, unlike most days of the last two weeks or so, we havenʻt had afternoon thunderstorms.  Sunny mornings, then often the clouds build, skies darken, and those fat pakaua begin to fall.  Pretty sure I mentioned this before, but paka...paka...paka... think that sound on an iron roof.  And "ua" is among other definitions, "rain" in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi.  When we were small, hearing that meant that it was snowing on The Mountain (Maunakea).

The walking to Keanakākoʻi in the park has been excellent.  Many others are enjoying that stroll too, most coming from afar:  Japan, Germany, Denmark, Spain, Mexico, France...quite the international assortment.  It seems that those from outside the US are more inclined to get out and walk, and perhaps arenʻt in as much of a hurry as those from the continent.

That cloud hovering over Kaluapele is present more often than not, and in the mornings we can watch it grow and evolve.  Itʻs about temperature and humidity, and hot afternoons as we have now, are clear.

Below is Version 2 of the pic (from mg) we posted last time.  This one includes Maunakea, far right horizon.

Below, posted on October 15 on the HVO website, shows the "puff" cloud on another day, but this from 20+ miles away.   Taken from near the top of Puʻuhonuaʻula, view is across the māwae, the lava channel.  The geothermal plant is, I believe, off the frame to the left.  The puʻu was the site of the PG cam that burned in a brush fire.  Always amazing to see how resilient vegetation can be.  Hāpuʻu (tree ferns) are putting forth fresh fronds, kī are green and happy.  Many of the leafless trees in the distance are albizia, a scourge in Puna ma kai.  They grow quickly, have softish wood, and break in strong winds, though too, they have been use to carve waʻa (outrigger canoes).  Hurricane = lots of fallen trees = no electricity for days or weeks...  It remains to be seen whether or not theyʻll resprout.

I forgot to note last time that on October 5, USGS Hawaiian Volcano Observatory lowered the Volcano Alert Level from Watch to Advisory.
Activity has decreased significantly, but Kīlauea will be closely monitored for any increase in activity.  Note, as weʻve said previously, that some pauses during eruptions have lasted three months or more.  

And finally, on a somewhat lighter note...

Many know and have enjoyed "Kings Hawaiian" bread, from Kingʻs Bakery, established in Hilo in 1950.  Now we have "Pillsbury Sweet Hawaiian Crescent Rolls".  Pretty sure when Kingʻs Bakery started marketing their bread, it was called Sweet Bread.  Or something.  Then when they went national, it morphed into "Hawaiian" bread.

So.  A problem with all this is that Hawaiians did not have bread or rolls in pre-contact times.  These Hawaiian breads and sweet Hawaiian rolls are actually...Portuguese!!!  Portuguese sweet bread, and malasadas (malassadas), both sweetish, were introduced to our fair isles by Portuguese immigrants.  Note, though, those immigrants came from Madeira and the Azores, and not from mainland Portugal.  Many were recruited by botanist William Hillebrand, who was sent to those islands by Kalākaua so our fledgling sugar industry would have workers.

And since we seem to be on a bit of a roll, and I do sincerely apologize for following sweet bread with kitty litter, but...

And yes, this is actually on the Internet.  I donʻt know if this is a product currently offered for sale, but it was...a year or so ago.  Note the Trademarked "Hawaiian Aloha".  And of course the "Odor-Eliminating Luau".

Go figure.  

But yes, we close, as always, with aloha,

BobbyC

Monday, October 15, 2018, Now...where was I?

Yes, indeed...Itʻs been two weeks since my last post?  Really?  Good thing I keep a paper calendar so I can remember whatʻs transpired during that time.

Itʻs a bit of a challenge, trying to figure out how to proceed.  When we were in the throes of The Three Months (TTM), it seemed easy.  Wake up, coffee up, up stairs, power up, and typewrite.  Repeat Daily.  Now it seems that lives are resuming whatever passes for normality, and priorities have shifted, as has scheduling.  Thinking I should make time a time or two a week to say something about whatever rises to the surface.  At least thatʻs the current thinking.  I procrastinate, and here we are...

So.  Iʻve been walking.  Almost daily.  From the Devastation Trail parking lot to Keanakākoʻi, a crater adjacent to Kaluapele.  Actually, Iʻve been visiting a couple different viewing areas across the roadway from KKOI.  The route is on portion of Crater Rim Drive that was closed in 2008, because of poor air quality after the start of the Halemaʻumaʻu eruption.  

The Way is paved, unpotholed, with just enough elevation loss and gain to increase heart and breathing rates, and quite quietly scenic.  Good for those of us with ambulatory issues.  Iʻm learning to share, because these days there are any number of folks on the walk.  Pre-TTM, it was mostly myself and walking companion eb.  And the sounds of winds rustling trees, ʻapapane melodiously calling there, ʻōmaʻo first here then a reply there, and, if early enough, nēnē announcing their passage from desert to Golf Course, the skies, clouds, mists, rains, and what-la.

Because whatever flight restrictions there were over Kaluapele during TTM have been lifted, we also get to be annoyed by the extremely intrusive thwackthwackthwack tuktuktuk or whatever, of helicopters.  They can be heard approaching from at least 5 miles away.  Lucky us if we happen to be there between tour cycles.

But.  The views astound, clouds light and shadow are always at play, and Iʻm pretty sure itʻll take a long while for us to become accustomed to her (new) face.  Remember that post about "Ua noho au a kupa"?  Go look at August 19...

Just below, from yesterday morning, thanks to mg.  And with a note:  "Not the old chugging away, constant plume of yore.  She makes her own cloud and gently holds it aloft."

What happens these days is that moisture in escaping fumes and vapors cool and condense as they rise, and often simply float lazily over the lua.  The clouds produced are fat and fluffy; often round-bottomed.  The one pictured leans to the right because we had gentle kona winds. And look carefully:  below the middle of the cloud we can see the source of the rising billow...that bit of bluish sulphurous fume rising from the abyss.

Maunaloa in the background.  That ridge in the foreground, just beyond the young ʻōhiʻa tree, is a spatter rampart formed in 1974.  eb named it ʻEnuhe (caterpillar), because it looked like one, and from the viewpoint we can see another ʻEnuhe, in the distance to the left of the photo, just past Pāhala.  The gap just above the tree formed when part of the rampart broke during ʻōlaʻi sometime during TTM.

And the drama of clouds steams vapors in morninglight are always something to behold, these from the KE cam in the tower at HVO:

And down at Pohoiki...the new black sand beach has filled in the bay quite nicely.  Greens are returning to the landscape, and it seems that the kumu niu (coconut trees) will survive.

Talk of reopening the boat ramp is sporadic.  I still believe that we should be thankful that Pohoiki ma kai was spared, a beach was created (though the sands are still sharp shards of shattered lava), and one day weʻll be able to visit.  Go look if you can make a ramp at Honolulu Landing.

Just past the second bay where a wave is just breaking, you can see the three fingers of pele that made their way to the ocean between Pohoiki and Mālama, where MacKenzie park is located.

And of course, in Keahialaka, Fissure 8 is fuming a bit.  Itʻll take awhile for magma remaining in the conduits to degas.  Note that the fume here, like some at the summit, has that bluish cast, an indicator of sulphur.   

No new information on the naming of features created during Pelehonuameaʻs works, so weʻll live with "Fissure 8" for the time being.  Note that there are many new landforms that might be named, but, as Iʻve said before, we should observe and get to know them first.

And clouds arenʻt exactly landforms, but able researchers could look for Hawaiian names for pyrocumulonimbus, the source of torrential downpours in Puna ma kai, and our fat puffballs hovering over Kaluapele.

Moving ma uka to the uppermost lands of Hawaiʻi nei, this from friend hf...

Probably the sharpest mountainshadow Iʻve seen, cast by Maunakea at sunset a couple weeks ago.

What looks like a lake below the peak of the shadow is a small patch of cloud.  Hilo Bay is in shadow to the right, and Makanaka, the largest puʻu at left.

And back here in the forest, the ʻōpelu is in bloom.  Maybe a third of the way through... Weʻve been gifted with 15 spikes this season, not including the little branches at the bases of the main ones.  ComeLook.  No fragrance, but impressive architecture.

And finally, today, for kicks... Lei of sorts.  Any guesses?

Till next time...as always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com