It’s early this morning. Jeb is with his dad and the neighbors are out of town. Had me half-dressed in the garden at sunrise, cup of coffee and camera in hand.







There is only one way to eat these mangos: standing over the kitchen sink with the spigot ready. You need a full facial rinse-off and hose down to the elbows after diving into this sticky sweet treat. The tree in our yard has them falling off in our hands, and when this harvest is over (coming soon) we know that summer will be officially over.

I keep hearing Johnny Mathis singing a Christmas song in my head as I stand in summer grass beneath a coconut palm. It’s the
chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose
There’s no nipping here, just some perspiration in this tropical heat, along with the Bohemian and his diligent collection of Malabar Chestnuts. I keep thinking this prolific tree is fairly useless with its bounty of nuts, but he insists they’re tasty and our gardening expert and friend, Mary, says they are, indeed, quite palatable when toasted. A quick Wikipedia search teaches me this tree is often referred to as the “Money Tree.” Hmmm…maybe the Bohemian is on to something. If he’s a squirrel, we’ve got our winter stash.

The green onion chives got a haircut yesterday and now all culinary dishes will be garnished in it. I guess if our whole household is breathing onions, none of us will notice much. As for the rest of the world, well, I’ll apologize in advance. We’ve got to get through this harvest. Can’t really go in small doses, green onions just don’t freeze well.

And while we’re on the thread of inspiration, can I just include a picture of what I’ve come to selfishly term, “my door”? The “my” only inserted as some feeble attempt to connect myself with one of the most beautiful pieces of art (that is, in fact, functional) that I have ever seen. I have held a love for doorways (and keys) for quite sometime. This door from Bali was recently assembled by the Bohemian and a friend. My camera could not capture the entire 19 foot wall of ornate woodwork that stands of either side of this entryway. The craftsmanship has me awestruck.
I joke that if this could be my front door, my home could be a simple mat on the ground, and I’d be happy just to spend my days gazing upon the carvings of my entrance.
This door is so inviting! It just begs of wonderment. What’s on the other side?
The Bohemian and I step away from domestic home routine. Pack some snacks and a beer and head to the beach to watch the sunset. Look at seaside vacation rentals and dream of wedding locations.
We look for that one house he went to – the one where they had a DJ on the deck and a dancing bride and groom. We find the big, dirt square in the lawn where the house once sat, and realize that now, it’s simply gone. Vanished.
We set out our blanket, eat our tortilla chips. Watch the family nearby practice martial arts moves on each other. Head butts that stop just short. Fake karate chops to throats. They go on like this for an hour.
We wander up the one lane road that winds along the ocean. Watch the sky turning pink. Round a corner and see one table set out on a seaside point. Eight chairs, tiki torches and photographers. Looks like a simple wedding. A small group sitting among lava rock and lapping waves. The caterer’s parked nearby with a barbecue grill on the back of her pick up truck.
Our feet trace the road. Ocean on one side, lush cliff side on the other. We find a big rock by the water and sit.
Then we hear the rumble. Look up to see the movement in the grass along the mountain. The earth shakes.
We go towards the sound and find a good size boulder has landed squarely in the road.

The sky is not falling, it’s the mountain that is crumbling to the sea. And we’d been walking in the fall-out zone only moments before.
Demolished houses, martial arts and rolling boulders. A wedding banquet off the back of a truck.
These are just the sights we see on one evening when we dare to shake routine, adventure out our own front door.