The Definition of Green

Lately, the view from this side of the world has looked like this:

Rain, rain, and more rain, and even I (secretly fascinated by the wet-worlds of Seattle and the Planet Kamino) was getting a little weary of the absence of sun and stars behind that sheet of gray water. We had a couple violent winter storms, resulting in actual frozen-water hail on the East Side. Buildings were flooded, bridges were closes, and feet were generally wet. Then today, the sky grew blue again, and though the air is still cold, it has been nice getting reacquainted with sunshine. One good thing about the rain though, is that it makes everything here green - vibrant, verdant, velvet. So, considering that St. Patrick's Day is coming up this week, here is photographic journey on the definition of green.

Rain Showers and Shower Trees

It may be snowing elsewhere in the Northern Hemisphere, but here in Hawaii we are being deluged with chilly rain. On Sunday we had some sort of melted blizzard that threatened to beat down the world to death. The mountainsides were draped in thunder-rumbling clouds. Even now, it is raining again, and the sky feels like a heavy cold blanket. It surprises me how green the earth can be when the air is this gray. 

The seasons here are strange. We are in the midst of our Rainy Season, as contrasted with the rest of the year which I suppose we call the Non-Rainy Season, because it definitely isn't dry. But there are other seasons as well, and they don't line up all in a row like spring, summer, fall, winter. We have Mango Season, Plumeria Season, Whale Season, and the various fluctuations of Tourist Season which lasts all year long. February is apparently the flowering season for this tree:

I'm not the best at recognizing the true names of all the tropical plants around here, but I'm thinking that this is what people call a Yellow Shower Tree, especially since it looks similar to the trees in this blog post. 

We have Pink Shower Trees as well, which always make me think of Bridal Showers. But I assume the name comes from the fact that the flowers shower the ground like rain, like snow. 

The photos almost portray how very Yellow these flowers are. They are as brilliant as sunshine. So bold, they cry out to everyone who passes to just look. Look at their definition of color against the sky, against the ground. I never realized how vibrant actual, natural color could be until I moved here.

We Can Be

We can be cold here, like we want to be. We can climb a rain-battered tree halfway before sliding back to the ground. We can balance on wooden swings and look from the sand to the sea to the sky and not feel lost at all. We can be wet. We can talk about a cozy coffee house three thousand miles away, the one with the fireplace and the window seat, and we feel warm just talking about it. Almost.

We can go anywhere, here. 

Sea Turtle and Sea Swell

There is a deplorable amount of soaking wet roosters roaming around today, and I'm beginning to wonder whatever made me think that the rainy season was ever over. Still, an umbrella-accompanied walk through the morning rain shower has its own delights, especially when succeeded by a hot shower of the indoors sort. 

Despite the abundance of water that's been pouring around lately, yesterday saw a bit of beautiful sunshine on the seashore. There was a south swell, causing high surf, which, combined with a strong wind, was splendid to watch from the safety of dry land.

 And not only was the ocean a gorgeous sight, but a cute someone on the beach caught my eye ... This handsome stranger was about 3 or 4 feet long, I'd say. He had been swimming in the strong surf, only coming to shore to take a little nap before going back out. His face in the sand, his flippers sprawled out, he slept soundly beneath the warm sun despite the crowd of fans that surrounded him. 

A giant sea turtle! This is a rare sight to find on the beach. I often see turtles swimming among the waves, eating algae off the rocks, but they don't like to come ashore very much. So it was a treat to see this one sleeping on the sand, oblivious to the surplus of tourists snapping his photo. He was so adorable, I wanted to take him home, but I didn't think he would fit in my bathtub.

Rainy Afternoon by the Sea

Just checking in to share some photos of my afternoon by the seashore. It was just a little bit rainy, with a cool sea breeze and turquoise water. The rain is no reason to stay away from the beach... it's just that much more beautiful...

Simple Things

It has been said that the simple things are those that really matter. Well, my life has been a bit simple of late. Whether it has mattered is still undetermined. Music has been keeping me going lately. Piano lessons and choir class - seeing the kids get excited about music makes it all worth while. I actually broke out (not literally, of course) the grand old violin yesterday. We had a tender and touching, though a bit scratchy, reunion. Among other things that have been happening to me recently:

I accidentally closed a door on a baby gecko -without going into details, it was not a pretty sight.

A whale jumped out of the ocean today, just because I was there.

I discovered a rather fat rat in my garage - it was practically waddling away from me when I opened the door one night.

Despite a general indifference and lack of talent at scrapbooking, I learned how to decoupage a box. It was fun, plus I now have a new favorite word. Decoupage, decoupage, decoupage...

 Spring is on its way... I think. Those of you on the mainland are probably waiting on the edge of your seats for the snow to stop and the sun to start shining again. Here in Hawaii, the winter is our rainy season. Despite some rainy afternoons and wet spells (and a case of acute thunderstorms last week), the sun has been smiling the last few days. The local plumeria graveyard...

...has sprouted a few blossoms...

I wish the internet had a scratch-and-sniff button so I could show you what Heaven smells like. Somebody please invent that.

As the seasons come and go, the sea always and never changes - it is always beautiful and never the same. The other day I watched as distant rain showers fell on the Pacific while the setting sun cast golden beams into the veiled horizon...

On a closing note, here's the latest from snowoholics anonymous:

Gratitude

Today wasn't so great, but it was. Not able to do anything of worth (a.k.a. writing) and not having to do anything of work (a.k.a. piano), I spent my time "wasting" it. There was a Mountain Dew involved. A healthy dose of chick flicks. And a good book (it was The Good Earth ) in the twilight. As the last of the day faded off, I played my piano looking out on the distant sleepy sea bordered by twinkles from the nearby seaside town and covered with a night-cloud blanket. Talk about inspiration. I'm still in a minor (I hope) rut of uncreativity and crabbiness, but looking out on the beautiful wet world while smelling sweet marsala chicken cooking on the stove made life just a little better. There are so many things I take for granted. Days without sickness, for instance. And music and books and peace and love. The twilight of every day. The option of coffee or tea. Winding roads. The ocean. Family. A good church. Imagination. A blog where I can ramble unhindered. I have more than I deserve or ever will.

We were even blessed with a bit of rain this weekend...

The Color of a Raincloud

If only the world were always the color of a raincloud, and the wet light slept on the cold ground instead of glaring in our eyes...

Melancholic as it might be, I find myself rejoicing in rainy mornings. The harshness of the tropic sun is dampened with the moisture. The green and gold world out my window is not quite so gaudy, and I feel more at home.

Yesterday had such a morning. It wasn't torrential or completely gloomy, but I'll take what I can get. In between showers, the sun shone bright on the spectacular sea.

A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall

Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand...

~Sara Teasdale

Fruit-loopian Rainfall

Fruit-loopian rain falls - drop by priceless drop - and tastes like the cinders hiding behind my eyes - the burning, burning, and then the singeing hiss of relief. Sidewalks echo beneath a mid-summer sky, which could have been mid-winter if it weren't for this weather. Day-old spiderwebs and day-old memories cling to the lids of the street lamps, the lids of the light. And sky surges as the sea surges, swelling ever down and and ever up. Ukulele strings, quick like hopskotch and insinuating like luck's laughter, perversely shoot rainbows at the unbelieving heavens that glower like a dead dawn.

Here, walking down the center of a street too small for a yellow dashed line and breathing in the coming night as if I'm singing backwards - taking in the song like air - here, I am. Dream on, drunken deluge of days-end. This is your time.