Skip to main content

Vog and ginger



Aren't these beautiful? They just popped up in the grass next to a tree in my yard the other day. I think they are some sort of ginger, but they are unusual in that the flower sprouted straight out of the ground just like this. Usually ginger flowers grow on established stalks. Quite literally, there were nowhere to be seen one day and in full bloom, just like you see them here, the next.
The trade winds have died down the past few days, prompting the vog to settle in. Vog is volcanic smog, created from current Kilauea eruption. Usually, it is sent aloft and to the west to create a constant haze over Kona. Not today. I had a chat with a neighbor this morning who said that there was once a baby vegatable farmer on our road who supplied many of the local restaurants and small market with greens. The vog was his undoing. As rarely as we experience it here, when we do, it burns the leaves of vegatables, turning them brown. She said she sold spinach to Cafe Pesto for awhile, only to have them switch to a Waimea supplier because she would not be able to come through for them whenever the vog was prevalent. I would love to have found a little house like mine on five acres in the Waimea area, but it would have cost about three times as much money there. So, we're here. Anyway, my neighbor said even in her greenhouse, the vog would burn her spinach leaves. That totally sucks. Fruit trees, however, and trees in general, seem unaffected by the vog. The neighbor said she has three coffee trees that are thriving and that coffee once dominated the North Glenwood area. Aparently, a blight of some sort wiped them out many years ago and nobody's made a serious attempt to replace it here since.
I heard a coqui frog last night. It sounded like he was somewhere just up the road, maybe across the street and up a house or two. There was only one, but at 10,000 eggs a lay, that could change quickly. I'll listen again tonight at dusk to see if I still hear him. We heard two about three weeks ago, but they disappeared so we assumed someone snapped them up or sprayed them. We are, geographically, very close to the Volcanoes National Park border, a place I know does not want coquis. So we should be able to get some help, what with the USDA now swooping in to help eradicate what has now been officially designated as a pest. I've seen their trucks around at lower elevations.
I'm headed to the driving range today. I haven't hit a golf ball in a couple of years, so the results could be interesting.
My adopted kitty cat, Mr. Sox, is still struggling with his goopy eyes. He's been taking antibiotics for weeks now, to no effect. He's now so gun shy of the medicine or whatever treatment I might administer to him that he simply runs whenever I come near. So I think I'll have to just give him a rest, with several days of no medicine, before I start the next round. Poor guy. The vet wants to try antihistimine too, to see if it's an allergy. We're hoping it's not viral, since that would be even more difficult to treat. Dogs are so easy compared to cats. Just stuff a pill into a hot dog or piece of cheese and they gobble it down. Not cats. If they even suspect you've doctored their food, they'll refuse to take a bite. Mr. Sox really is a big sweetie. He's beginning to leave the dogs alone and even he and Abner are coexisting peacefully most of the time.
I'm off to the range. Wish me luck making some contact with the little white buggah. Aloha.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned .  I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned .  So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses.  Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees

Re-writing Twain: Adendum

The best thing about rants, at least among the civilized, is that someone smart always makes a valid point to the contrary. My fellow University of Alaska Anchorage classmate, Wendy, directed me to this column, written recently for the New York Times by a writer I admire, Lorrie Moore . She's on both sides of editing Twain issue, and for good reason, posing the notion that maybe Mark Twain was never intended to be children's literature and that that is the problem. Give it a read, then tell me what you think, if you're so inclined. It was Flannery O'Connor who said, "The fact is that anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information to last him the rest of his days."  No matter how idyllic one's childhood, no matter how hard grown ups try to protect their young charges, trauma happens, sometimes the likes of which no child should endure. Stories that reflect this are often the fodder for great literature, stories not necessarily suitable for y