Skip to main content

How dark can it get?

Last night gave me a whole new understanding of just how dark dark can be; just how black the blackest night; just what zero light looks like. There was no moon. The house was enshrouded with a heavy misty fog that lowered visibility with a light down to about 10 feet. With the lights off, that visibility was zero. Even the cats, with their giant pupils, seemed a bit spooked. They stayed close to the house, taking advantage of the glow from the windows.
There are no street lights here on Glenwood Rd. So when the moon is hiding, it's dark. Really dark. Hold-your-hand-up-a-centimeter-from-your-face-and-not-see-it dark. We can't see our neighbors lights through the foliage from here, so the darkness gives a profound feeling of isolation. When a light it shined, it illuminates the mist as a white haze, obscuring the surrounding forest. It's all very cool.
Ron and I went to a beach park in Hilo yesterday. It's a shallow, protected lagoon with a sandy bottom, perfect for swimming. A green sea turtle caught the eye of a couple visiting from Minnesota. I marveled along with them at the docile, contented creature. Ron was too much of a whimp to swim with me. The water was a little chilly. When it started to rain I was unphased. He, on the other hand, found it tough to continue lounging with a magazine along the shoreline. He whined about getting wet while waving me in. So, we boogied off for a beer an Hale Inu (or something like that), a tiny open-air bar we discovered our first week here. Then it was off to Ocean Sushi Deli. It's not our favorite sushi establishment in town, but it's good and very reasonably priced, so we could pig out for less.
This morning was a stark contrast to last night, with bright sunshine and blue sky. This afternoon, however, is shaping up to be foggy and drizzly again. We're staying in and whipping up some chicken for dinner.
There are two rabbits living on our street. They are very cute. I was surprised when I saw them. I had been lead to believe there were no rabbits in Hawaii. I've recently learned that they are illegal. So I'm debating on whether or not to call the authorities to report the sighting. There are only two of them, and I think they are pets and hang out in one general area. There are no other rabbits with which they could possibly mate. For all I know, they are fixed or the same sex and cannot mate with each other, either. I think I'll try to find out who cares for them, if anyone, before making a report. What do you think?
I'm getting a bit bored and am anxiously awaiting my tractor. Once I get some mowing accomplished, I can begin the planning and planting of my mini-farm. Until then, it's a good book and the Olympics. They like to show Curling during the day. While I do respect those athletes and their mastery of an ancient game, it's not the most riveting television. Brooms and rocks on ice just don't cut it as must see TV.
Aloha.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud...