Winter has decidedly arrived as thunders roll across the skies, a light paka ua plop plops on the metal roof, and Poliʻahu, our elemental of snow who dwells on Maunakea, now too visits Maunaloa. This, via the USGS HVO MLcam:
I have a fondness for the dictionary of Lorrin Andrews, published in 1865, and his almost poetic definitions. As well as being Poliʻahu, the elemental,
poliahu s. A soft touch; a gentle adherance of one thing to another.
Our bloomings of course continue. As HK observed this morning, the yellow gingers at her home in Kona ʻĀkau are nearing the end of their season, and our bountiful roadside patches of both ʻawapuhi melemele and keʻokeʻo (yellow and white ginger) are barely lingering too. The kāhili gingers here in Volcano are long gone, flowers being replaced by brilliant orange seed pods.
Weʻll write more next time about other bloomings, but now, about That ʻŌhiʻa Lehua:
No Ke Aloha Pau ʻOle No Nā ʻŌhiʻa Lehua
(because of unceasing aloha for ʻōhiʻa trees)
I was especially struck by one roadside ʻōhiʻa.
unremarkable
seemingly like all others
but look closely there
and there, and there, and there too...
We observe and learn. I live in a rain forest dominated by ʻōhiʻa, but they never fail to captivate. People and ʻōhiʻa are similar in that each individual is unique. We understand that humans are all Homo sapiens, but with genes allowing for subtle differences in skin tone, color and shape of eyes, texture and color of hair... and so with ʻōhiʻa lehua: variable but the same.
This one nondescript tree, one of many, became the focus of our attentions, and the following photos were generously provided by Janice.
I had been looking at the trees to my right, but got distracted by the māhu hoʻokino, hovering and shape-shifting. The tree closest to me seems to be dying, but its taller columnar companion became our obsession.
That flash of red to the right of my fist caught my eye, then I started looking and seeing. Iʻve been wont to comment on the lack of availability of word lists in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi pertaining to features relating to plants. But...I had never taken time to wander through Māmaka Kaiao, a dictionary of "new" words. Itʻs available at wehewehe.org, and I spent time last evening learning.
First, a bit of very basic flower botany, via The Internet:
Yes, there are a multitude of flower species, but they have in common, parts needed to make seeds. The parts donʻt always look or are positioned as illustrated, but the end result is hopefully the same: fertile seeds.
The Pistil is comprised (top to bottom) of the Stigma, Style, and Ovary. The stigma is sticky, and captures grains of pollen. Pollen plays the role of sperm. After landing on the stigma, a pollen grain grows a tube that descends through the style, and if all goes well, fertilizes eggs held in the ovary.
The Stamen, comprised of an Anther and a Filament, produces pollen. The filament holds the anther aloft, the anther actually makes the pollen.
Sepals are often greenish, and are the bottom or outer-most part of the flower. Petals are the next layer, and are colored in ways to attract various pollinators.
The Peduncle is the stem that holds the flower or inflorescence (a group of flowers), and the Receptacle gives rise to and holds all the flower parts together.
Tight buds. Each lehua "flower" is actually many separate flowers. The greenish-tipped fuzzys are sepals. Dark red are petals. Each "knob" is a separate flower. The colors and degree of fuzziness (pubescence) vary on each tree.
Lehua flower cluster in full bloom. This one is rather loose, making it easier to discern individual pua.
Close up. The pua at the right has lost most of its petals. Pointy greenish sepals remain. The kukuna (pistil) is a heavier gauge, and darker red, and rises up out of the center of the flower. The fat-topped kukuna just left of top center looks wet, because itʻs sticky. That stickiness catches (ʻāpona) the pollen (ʻehu). Most pōheo (anthers) are pinkish, while yellow ʻehu (pollen) can be seen on a few.
Below, as the pua ages, its pōuleule (stamens) fall off, leaving only kukuna (pistils) standing.
And we have a "situation". Many refer to pōuleule and kukuna collectively as "lihilihi", because of their resemblance to eyelashes, an apt and beauty full poetic reference.
Wilted brownish red pōuleule (stamen) upper right. Kukuna held in the centers of the cup, each surrounded by fuzzy sepals.
Seed pods swell...
And some retain their kukuna...
Finally, after several months, wahī (pods) begin to open, revealing precious cargo: countless blonde ʻanoʻano (seeds).
Winds do their work, wafting seemingly fragile seeds away,
leaving behind empty shells:
A year or so later, wahī remain, but are much weathered.
But hereʻs another thing...We have an endemic bug, a psyllid, a jumping plant louse, who favors laying eggs in ʻōhiʻa leaf tissue. Irritated tissue becomes inflamed, then scars develop, forming galls. There are apparently many different species of psyllid here, and many are host-specific, only making themselves at home on one kind of plant.
One of my pics:
Back to Janiceʻs, top of leaf below:
Bottom of the same lau (leaf). Note the fuzziness, just like the pua on the same tree.
And fortuitously, I had my trusty Swiss Army Knife, and sliced into a gall:
That yelloworange creature in its self-made home is a psyllid nymph. An amazing stroke of luck, visible with ease via the magic of Janiceʻs camera work while I held the leaf between two fingers. These little things live in leaf tissue, but seem not to have much impact on the health of the tree...
And, the blurries below, perched on pua lehua in the same area in June, may be the adults. Iʻve sent a query to a researcher and will apprise you of details if/when they become available. [NOTE: 050220. Kinda late, but the pic below are of flies. Perhaps a drosophila. Or something. But they are not psyllids.]
And in the time itʻs taken to write this, thunderstorms have passed, sun is kinda out, the air still chill...and snows have begun to melt...
Good? Till a few days from now...
As always, with aloha, and boundless gratitudes,
BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com
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