Learning the Seasons

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

Our first three trips to Hawai‘i were all in the winters. In 2012–13, it was just a week in January, after Internet2’s Techs-in-Paradise meeting. (That’s when Davey first went gaga over lava.) In 2013–14 we came just before Christmas and stayed about four weeks. In 2014–15 we came a little later, and stayed into February. At the end of that trip, we bought Bramalani.

In 2015–16, we came for three months, December through February, to renovate it into a vacation rental. As you know from previous posts, we didn’t quite make it.

We stayed from November through mid-March in 2016–17, a full five months. But still mostly winter—or maybe late fall through early spring. I think the fact that we had always left a gray, cold Michigan and entered into a lovely, green, warm, sunny (when it wasn’t raining) environment made us think that the Big Island was a place of perpetual summer. But as our first full year of Hawai‘i residency ticked away, we started to suspect, little by little, that there were seasonal forces at work here, too. I thought I knew the seasons. But I was very wrong.

Once springtime really started to swing, we began to notice things we’d never seen before. Trees adorned themselves with blossoms and seeds we’d not yet been here to see. Some of the bromeliads under the banyan tree suddenly developed purplish, divided blooms at least two feet long. One of the heliconia we planted—and had forgotten the name of—produced a large, drooping, fuzzy flower, thus identifying itself as a King Kong. We’d seen only one gardenia blossom last year, because we left as it was just beginning to flower. Now there were many blossoms, a few in places where we hadn’t even noticed there were gardenia bushes before, honeying the air as we walked anywhere closeby. A few weeks later, the Hawaiian magnolia began its long blooming season—how beautiful those flowers were, as if carved out of porcelain! We picked the first of many papayas from our very own tree. We noticed pineapples growing on many plants we’d uncovered around the place, and picked our first one—where we’d planted the top of a pineapple from the market a couple years back.

And while we’re talking about pineapples, have you ever heard of a white pineapple? We hadn’t either. Turns out they’re white inside (duh) and an order of magnitude sweeter than the golden variety. And we have several of them growing right here at Bramalani!

Then there is The Tree That Once Was Dead. That was the pseudo-scriptural name we’d used to describe this tree that baffled us on the first couple trips. It lost all its leaves, little by little, until it looked like it had died. Not expecting this kind of behavior in Hawai‘i, we were quite concerned. But now we’ve seen the entire transformation: about March, it started growing leaves again, and as of the end of June, it was entirely leafed out once more into a beautiful tree, which we gave a new, more fitting scriptural name: The Tree That Once Was Dead And Is Alive Again. We’ve also noticed there’s one type of tree in the area that changes color in the fall.

And yes, the weather was different, too. They’d told us the seasons change a lot from year to year, but this first year, the summer has turned out to be absolutely beautiful, and much drier and sunnier than the winters have been. The pool has been between 80 and 90 degrees for months, and we’re finally starting to realize why people told us we live in the “sun belt.” Many, many times, we have been enjoying a beautiful, sunny day, while just a little bit mauka (up the hill), the clouds are roiling and the rain is pouring.

But even though winter, spring, summer and fall normally get most of the attention, there are larger-shaped seasons at work here, too. In fact, from a certain point of view, there are really many seasons going on all at the same time. Like the Bible verse says, there’s a season for practically everything—and that verse is followed by quite an impressive list. The thing about seasons, though, is you have to get to know them, don’t you? You might not recognize them at first. Each season has its own cues, its own characteristics, its own timetable.

We might not have been very aware of it on a daily basis, but Kīlauea, our very own local—and active—shield volcano, has seasons, too. And while the changes from spring to summer may have been more subtle than we were used to, the changes in Kīlauea certainly were anything but! We’d already been made very aware of its seasons when looking at real estate in 2015, when the 2014 Pahoa flow was still in progress, thus ruling out any purchase or insurance in Lava Zones 1 or 2. But since that time, Pele had settled back into a more predictable rhythm, and Kīlauea was erupting more or less according to expected patterns. That all changed as of April 2018. Unbeknownst to us, it had been approaching an important turning point. The lava had been slowly building up in the reservoirs of Pu‘u O‘o and Halema‘uma‘u for a hundred years, reaching its highest point in April. Just a couple days earlier, David and I drove up to Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park and joined thousands of people to witness the overflowing of the lava lake.

Only a few days after that, on May 4, 2018, seismic activity went through the roof (or below the basement), the lava lakes in both crater and vent fell precipitously, and we were rocked by two earthquakes: a magnitude 5.4, followed an hour later by a 6.9 earthquake felt as far away as Oahu, and the first in a series of crater collapses. Then a series of vents opened up along the Lower East Rift Zone (LERZ), right in the middle of a beautiful subdivision named Leilani Estates. Evacuation orders were given, dangerous gases and lava started pouring down residential streets, “lava bombs” could be heard in the distance (even from our lanai, about eight miles away as the ‘io flies), many homes—over 700 in all—and beautiful, beloved recreation spots were totally destroyed. Luckily, Bramalani was not in Pele’s way, and because of our windward position, our air remained very clear compared to other spots on the Big Island. But a strong orange glow began to visit us every night, visible from our lanai through the forest. I’ll never forget one night, going for a swim in the still-warm pool, gazing up at the starry heavens, with that eerie glow lighting up the southeastern sky behind the forest.

During the course of all this activity, we were slowly beginning to learn the signs of the season. We regularly checked websites that reported the seismic activity according to magnitude, latitude, longitude—and even depth. An increase in seismic activity usually meant that lava was on the move, under the surface. We bookmarked sites with evacuation announcements, SO2 percentages, wind direction, and the Facebook pages of local experts who donated their time and expertise to keep the rest of us informed. (A few of their photos are included here.)

Then came hurricane season, and Hurricane Lane. Yes, as few realize, Hawai‘i is in a Pacific hurricane zone, much like Florida’s Atlantic/Caribbean one, and both hurricane seasons occur in parallel. You don’t hear much about Hawai‘i’s, because not very many hurricanes actually end up having a big affect on the Big Island. In fact, no hurricane has ever made landfall on the Big Island. The most memorable have either passed by closely, or been downgraded to tropical storm status before landfall. But every once in a while, yes, when the season is just right, they can cause havoc. One named Iselle did that in 2014, toppling an amazing number of beautiful but dangerous and invasive albizia trees—the same ones with the lacy tops we’d admired so much when we first visited—stranding many people and causing power outages lasting for weeks.

As of this writing, Pele has stopped spewing lava from Fissure 8, LERZ, the air is cleaner than it’s been since 2007, Hurricane Lane passed by to our west, dumping over two feet of rain on us—and as much as 50 inches elsewhere—in the course of three days. Hurricane Olivia threatened, too, but passed us to the north. We’re starting to learn the signs of a couple of new and very exciting seasons.

As we finish up our very first year in Hawai‘i, we’ve been lucky enough to experience the coolest, wettest winter in 30 years, the biggest quake in 45 years, a re-enactment-and-then-some of the 1960 LERZ lava flow (58 years ago), during which friends were displaced and gorgeous nature spots that drew us here in the first place were destroyed forever, two hurricane near-misses… And if that wasn’t enough to unsettle us, another new season had arrived in our lives, too.

Both David and I had gone back to the drawing board to figure out what our lives in this new season might look like. We had some ideas, but there were so many unknowns. It was time to leave my day job for a new “retirement calling” (see https://creativemeasures.com/retirement-career-or-calling/ for much more on that). David finally got his national Realtor license transferred from Michigan—in true “aloha time”—and began studying to take the Hawai‘i-specific exam required to get his license here. After having the testing date canceled due to Hurricane Lane, he rescheduled and passed with flying colors.

We reached new milestones on the house renovation, too: the last remaining windows were replaced, the last exterior walls were painted, the yellow room was yellow no more, and as it was being prepared for possible rental, the one-time carport was slowly but surely becoming a media room. The gardens began to take better shape. (And back in Michigan, a new season was beginning at Hawkswood, too. We got an exciting report from the new owners with an incredible list of improvements they’d accomplished in their first year, including a garage-building project, along with some photo highlights.)

New things are happening. Thank goodness, the change of seasons doesn’t just mean the old are gone. It also ushers in the new! Pele had left much destruction in her wake, but somehow, at the same time, she’d also created a long list of new beauty spots to be beloved for years to come. There are several large black sand beaches where there had been none, just waiting now for happy travelers to arrive. Gorgeous Kapoho with its spectacular tidepools is gone, but a new, gorgeous Kapoho beach has been created. Two more scripture verses come to mind: “it has not yet appeared what it may be” (see I John 3:2); “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5).

And though I said goodbye to my day job, I’ve had a wonderful time getting up to speed in my new studio space. I’ve even got two new song recordings to show for it already, with two more following close on their heels. (Listen on YouTube if you have a moment to “The Lord’s Prayer,” and “Everything I Am.”) It’s a new season, and there are new signs to learn.

How do the seasons affect you? Are you even aware of all the seasons going on around you in this moment? I think how the seasons affect our lives depends partly on our view of time. Our perspective on how long the seasons are in the whole scheme of things, and what purposes they serve. Our sense of where we “fit” in the world around us—not to mention our actual, physical location.

You must chart your own journey through the seasons, of course, but for my part, I’m trying to recognize more fully the many seasons that make up my life. Trying to pay closer attention to new cues, new tips, new characteristics, new timetables. Trying to get a better sense of my place within the many seasons flowing around me. Am I an unwitting puppet, or a participant? Mover, builder, helper, guide? Am I riding the wave, tossed to and fro by it, or helping to set it in motion? Heady questions on such a beautiful, sunny day as today.

 

Yup. We’re residents now! And boy did they make us work for these license plates. But it’s all worth it to live in a place where they actually put rainbows on license plates.

A photo by Harry Durgin, our beloved Puna photographer and weather expert. It’s always best when a meterologist can post stunning photos to illustrate his informative forecasts.

We hired Manny and crew again to come do some final tree work. The white koa on the heliconia pu‘u were the final ones to go. Just too tall and too close to the house (not to mention leaning over it).

Joseph Vigilanti’s blacksmithing handiwork is now ensconced on the edge of the heliconia pu‘u.

Our fifth Christmas in Hawai‘i was our first as residents.

First project was finishing my studio. We replaced the large front window (that overlapped the existing roofline) with three casement windows.

After replacing the studio windows, we added some horizontal siding and applied the final, crowning hue to our external color palette. The orange we originally chose (Joyful Orange) didn’t quite work. The next one we tried didn’t either. We finally settled on Emergency Zone. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?

One of David’s best ideas since arriving here was to extend the roof of back porch, lanai and front entry. Here you see the first two of those projects. We used translucent panels, so as not to lose the light. Because of this project, the lanai has become like another room for us, and we’re able to walk around the entire house when raining and stay completely dry.

As much as we hate to kill these beautiful albizia trees, they are dangerous and invasive. We’d only killed small ones before, but David took on these tall ones soon after the tree work was done, and within two weeks, they were dead. When two of them abruptly crashed toward the house a couple months later, we realized the wisdom of eliminating them.

The first orchid we planted in our poolside ohia tree has been blooming almost continuously all year. About the time one stalk is done, another appears, buds and flowers into gloriousity.

We cleared the area by the pool and began planting something besides vines.

Had to order some dirt, as there is precious little to plant anything in around here. The spade hits rock about 1-inch in!

Thanks, Alysa and Brad. Remember that little papaya you gave us? Look at it now. We’ve been enjoying a steady stream of papayas for months.

For those not familiar with papayas, here’s what they look like. They taste very similar to musk melons, I think.

Starting on the roof extension over the entry.

New lanai setup under the roof extension. We’ve been entertaining quite a bit here. Want to join us?

Yet another gorgeous view from the cliffs, on one of my daily morning walks.

One section of my usual walk passes through a wooded area teeming with chickens. Several new chicken broods have appeared over the last year. Here’s one example. Makes me feel like I’m back on the farm!

A couple local nene geese I often see on my walk.

The fragrance of gardenias, right in our front yard.

Davey heard high-pitched whining in the heliconia one day when we were relaxing on the lanai. One of the feral cats, the one we named Bootsie, had had a litter. Al E. Cat showed up at our door a couple weeks later almost dead, and he’s been hanging close ever since.

Turns out Davey isn’t the only one who’s nuts over gauzy curtains.

Our first pineapple.

Eating our first white pineapple. Yum, yum, yum!

The King Kamehameha heliconia has been blossoming like crazy this year.

See the little kieki (little ones) forming in the crotches of this bromeliad?

These blooms were certainly a surprise to see one day underneath the banyan tree.

If we wanted a guest room, David had to come up with another solution for his shop. He decided to build a roof over top of the old catchment for now. He’s getting good at building roofs.

Some friends from Holy Apostles helped me celebrate my retirement from Day Job City in February at Chapter 27, downtown Hilo.

A pianist needs a place to stash music books near the piano, and this old smoking stand I inherited from Unc. George made the transition nicely! I left his pipe in there for ambience, though.

David wanted to cut this bush down at first, but after he saw (and tasted) the Surinam cherries it produced, he’s decided he kinda likes it.

King Kong heliconia. Glad it flowered, because we’d forgotten its name.

The Tree That Once Was Dead is just starting to leaf out again in this picture after becoming almost totally bare…

And here it is a couple months later, all lush and vibrant.

Hawaiian Magnolia. What a gorgeous, elegant flower. The bush is free of vines now, and getting more sun. We had never seen it bloom before. It put on a show for over a month.

We’ve gradually been propagating ti plants and getting donations from friends and neighbors, and we love the variety of foliage they produce. And a blessing, too!

Our Holy Apostles choir. It’s sure been fun singing with these guys under the direction of our organist, Rick Mazurowski.

David celebrating at Holy Apostles. He supplies from time to time on Sundays and Wednesdays.

Davey celebrating again, this time in his precious pool! He’s been keeping it in beautiful shape, and it was between 80–90 degrees for the last four months. I sure love jumping in every morning after my walk!

This is what greeted us as we approached the Kiluaea crater to see the overflowing lava lake in late April. You have to look close, but you can see the lava glowing at the edge, just right of the rainbow.

Here’s how Kiluaea crater looked from Mauna Kea, with a time-lapse camera. Photo by G. Brad Lewis, volcanoman.com.

Soon after we saw the lava lake overflow, it fell precipitously, the crater collapsed, and the lava we’d seen was on the move underground. It erupted in Leilani Estates just a few days later. Photo by Harry Durgin.

This photo was in the news, taken from Leilani Estates during the height of the eruption.

Here’s the entire line of fissures along Kilauea’s Lower East Rift Zone from the air.

And here’s what a few of them looked like closer in. Photo by G. Brad Lewis.

Another photo by G. Brad Lewis. This one shows the horrifyingly huge lava channel, a river of fire flowing from Fissure 8 toward Kapoho.

Another shot from Mauna Kea during the eruption period. Pretty awesome.

People began to go down to Pahoa for dinner just to see the red glow. If it wasn’t for that attraction, the merchants of Pahoa would have had an even harder time surviving the tourism downturn.

One of the many breathtaking helicopter viewpoints of the lava inundation of Kapoho. As each beloved site was destroyed, you could feel the sadness rise.

The first day they reopened highway 130, we drove down across the steam fissures (with windows rolled up!) and headed toward Kalapana. We just had to see if these beloved sites were still here. Thank goodness they were, but looking back you could not escape the ominous plumes: one from Fissure 8 (left), and one from the ocean entry (right).

David had crafted a catchment bypass system before the eruption started. That was very good timing, as we were being warned not to allow volcanic dust and Pele’s hair to get into the water.

We helped rescue some plants from a nursery in Kapoho. This is a licuala grandis.

Every so often, there was an exciting sight mixed in with the destructive onslaught. The old, beloved ponds were gone, but new ones may be created!

The lava flow halted, just short of destroying all of Pohoiki. Pele took the NE half of the park, but left the rest, and created a huge black sand beach in the process.

Moonscape? No, lavascape near the end of the eruption, back where it began in Leilani Estates. (Photo by Harry Durgin.)

No sooner had the eruption ended than new dangers were stalking us across the tropics. This is a satellite photo of Hurricane Lane passing by to our south. It brought us torrential rains, but not destructive winds.

Damian just couldn’t stay away. We got him back to help us finish up the window replacement project.

Replacement windows along the side of the bedroom, and a new window arrangement in the front, with casements replacing the worn-out jalousies.

Front view, after studio reno, roof expansion, and new windows and door in bedroom and guest room.

Watch out, Puna. David C. Glaser has passed his state real estate licensing exam with flying colors!

David will work as an agent with Ed Reiners as his broker. There are two other agents besides David.

Just in case the real estate thing doesn’t work out, I decided to try David out as a background singer. He helped me with background vocals on a new track coming out soon.

Finally, after a year, the kitchen is totally done. We’d been dusting around that pile of mosaic tile for a long, long time!

What better way to close our gallery this time than to show how Al E. Cat has grown and become more comfortable around us. Anytime we sit outside and talk, he shows up, and after his dinner, he jumps up on the lava pu‘u, looks around, and curls up for a little nap. We’re glad you found us, Alley.