Sunday, June 2, 2019. Mōhala nā pua... The flowers bloom...

So here we be... trying to make sense of our weathers.  Today tradewindy with passing showermists, Wednesday last it was sunny and warm, Thursday cool and misty.  Whatever it is, weʻre happy.  The understory of the forest is brightened by the almost limegreen of fresh hāpuʻu fronds, most now fully expanded and sturdy.

The one above dotted with collected dew droplets and the odd lihilihi.  This post will likely turn out to be photo-heavy; most are mine, and others shared by friends cm, ac, and ln.

During the last month or so, Iʻve had opportunities to drive hither and yon, through the Konas, across the Saddle, up and down through Hāmākua and Hilo Palikū, and everywhere Iʻve been astonished repeatedly by the abundance of bloom.  I know that Iʻm older, and that my memories are often clouded, and that concussions have diminished mental acuity, and that statements in some situations have been embarrassingly tone-deaf and indeed hurtful, for which I apologize, but... but... even with all that, I cannot remember a bloom such as weʻve experienced and are experiencing.  Wow...

A thought:

What if this bloom, if in fact itʻs unusual in its grandiosity, is related to the absence of vog?  Maybe a wavelength of light critical to bloom abundance is now, unfiltered by haziness, able to encourage flowering?  Maybe too the subterranean shakings of a year ago added encouragement:  Hurry up!  You might die soon!  Better make seeds!  Or the dustings of lehu, tiny tiny bits of ash, added a particular nutrient to soil?

Every thing tree shrub annual perennial vine bush big small are, it seems, blooming, have bloomed, or will bloom.  This is especially so of our beloved and besieged ʻōhiʻa lehua.  All over Hawaiʻi nei, trees big and little are ablaze.  Not all of them at once, but in the forests up here, by turns, as described in our Hawaiian Dictionary,

Moano ka lehua  (the lehua flowers become red)

"Moano" also is the name of a favored goatfish, multihued reds too...

Itʻs a wonderment.  And because itʻs tree-by-tree, rather than the entire forest blooming at once, we are treated to a prolonged bloom.  And the birds, especially ʻapapane, are celebrating an abundance of nectar, and are singing madly with joy.

Pua lehua with light orange lihilihi kāne and red lihilihi wahine:

In the field, this one was a raspberry pink,

though when covered with raindrops, this lehua ʻapapane looks pink too:

Too, kūkaenēnē are blooming and will fruit soon after, these from good friend ac:

But Iʻm perplexed at the name "kūkaenēnē".  Mostly because kūkae nēnē, at least as seen in parts of Hawaiʻi Volcanoes with which Iʻm familiar, looks like this:

If the plant was named because its fruit is/was reminscent of kūkae nēnē, then maybe, because changes in vegetation has affected nēnē diet, their kūkae no longer looks like those shiny black hua (fruits).  Hmmmm.  Maybe TMI, but these are things I ponder.

And the kūpaoa are blooming.  Yellow-flowered shrub Dubautia ciliolata, in a bouquet of lehua flowers, buds, and liko (this is my pic...a bit fuzzy, but hopefully still serviceable),
   

and the (in my experience) more fragrant white-flowered Dubautia scabra common on young pāhoehoe: 

I like the pic below...Droplets on lihilihi, youngish dark grey pahoehoe, and that out-of-focus smudge of the ao lewa forming above the Lua.

Friend kr has suggested "māhu hoʻokino" for the cloud... vapors assuming form... phenomena rarely seen and mayhaps seldom noticed might deserve names, and I trust that others more knowledgeable about ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi than I will contribute to conversations.

Back to Kona for more favorite plants.  I studied and learned ethnobotany from Bea Krauss and Izzy Abbott, and a field plant ID mentor was Lani Stemmermann.  All three were remarkable women, and I remain grateful for their many sharings.

Delicate, almost papery petals of our endemic poppy, puakala.  Its blue-grey leaves are prickly, much like the fronds of limu kala, and the spines at the base of the tail of iʻa kala.  Ripe pods (right background) of puakala were scored, and the exuded sap used to treat toothache.

Limu kala by Keoki Stender:

and from the Waikīkī Aquarium, the fish we call kala.  Some are put off by the strong taste of its flesh, and though itʻs been decades, I fondly recall enjoying it.  At the beach, off the grill...

Above, in my estimation, the most spectacular of our endangered endemic flowers, kokiʻo (Kokia drynarioides), nearly extinct in the wild lavalands of Kona ʻĀkau.  Iʻm partial to the color orange, and its complexly curved and beautifully textured petals are always a sight to behold.  Its bark was harvested and used to dye and help preserve fish nets.

Below, first an image of liko maua (Xylosma hawaiiense).  In the lavalands, maua often assume a "weeping" habit, but in Kīpukapuaulu the trees are much much bigger.  Donʻt know why, or if Iʻm remembering correctly, but a term descriptive of lau maua (maua leaves) that has stuck in the recesses is "crenate"..."having a round-toothed or scalloped edge".

And then below, liko lama.  Lama, or elama (Diospyros sandwicensis) is an endemic member of the ebony family.  Also in that family are persimmons, and like those, hua lama are edible.  But...like persimmons, if they are unripe, their tannic tartness will dry the inside of your mouth memorably and instantly.  Lama is a kinolau (body form) of Laka, elemental of hula, and in traditional hālau hula, a block of lama wood is placed on the kuahu, or hula altar.

Though this is a poor representation, below are silver oak (golden yellow) and purple jacaranda in Kona ʻĀkau.  This was several weeks ago, and the spectacle there may be nearly over...

And finally, for today, a seasonal note.  At this time of year, bo trees in and around Hilo and Keaʻau lose their leaves, and quickly grow new ones.  Bo (Ficus religiosa), are deciduous banyans, and are significant in Buddhism, Hinduism, and Jainism, because Gautama Buddha, as he meditated under one, became enlightened.

The tree below lives at the Puna Hongwanji Mission in Keaʻau.

Their leaves have very pronounced "drip tips" and a shiny waxy surface that helps torrential rain water run off quickly.  

Used to be that leaf-fall happened during the first week of June, but of late (the past several years or so) early to mid-May has been the season.  Climate change, paha?

And there are more to see and enjoy.  Get out there!

be outside...pay attention       noho i waho...a maliu

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com