Fran and I made it off the farm just as the first snow started to fall after Thanksgiving.
Our oldest daughter Erica and family moved to Hawaii a few years ago and built a delightful homestead in the jungle. We arrived tired and worn out from a season of growing fruits, vegetables and flowers and taking them to market.
It’s exhausting work.
We quickly traded our boots, jeans and heavy coats for shorts, sandals and Hawaiian shirts.
As farmers, we can’t help but investigate what is growing and how they do it.
Some places we go by have every blade of — I guess you call it grass? — in place in a kind of golf-course look.
In other places the jungle has clearly won and the houses kind of peek out.
Our favorite homes, like Erica’s, have been carefully planted with vegetation of happy colors and flowers. There are stands of different types of bamboo, lemon trees, tangerine trees and orchids of every size and shape.
Fran is looking for ideas and plants that we can try when we get back home.
The growing process is quite different, as the island is really a lava flow that has plants on top. To plant anything, they pretty much have to blast a hole in the ground, fill it with topsoil and then plant. The warm weather takes care of the rest. Rototilling is useless here.
As we enjoy the sun, swimming in the ocean and recouping our energy, we find ourselves making plans for when we return. A complete makeover for the roadside stand, turning a row tunnel into a finishing area for plants and some house renovations are in play.
Can’t wait to get back to that stack of seed catalogs that are waiting.
Odd, but that farmer’s guilt thing has followed us to the island. If it’s daylight and not pouring rain, we have to be outside doing something. Fran sneaks out and pulls weeds for Erica, while I try to resist feeling like I should be working on the equipment.
I do my best to eat everything I can’t get at home. Ummm, macadamia nut pancakes and coconut syrup.
Usually we walk a lot.
The neighbors probably think we’re crazy.
It’s all good.