Change is a strange thing

The Moon and the Winds have conspired to clear the skies often during the past week. With the season definitely shifting from end of summer to nearly fall the morning is cool and energizing. I am grateful for the energy and physical comfort to be able to walk around our neighborhood.

The 'Ole phases of the moon gift us with moonlight days, I spot her as I step out through the curtain and take myself up the hill toward Anderson Farm. Community gardens and the flush blooms of dahlias are such gifts at any time but to see them first thing upon waking? A promise of sweet potential. Not far from the gardens the fields of fenced grass keep the big and beautiful bovines in place. I see their tagged ears, and know they're marked for steaks and hamburger. But not yet, not yet.


Seated in the driver's seat of our Subaru, the Bunnies stayed close for awhile, but have moved on, leaving me instead in the momentary company of a very brazen Crow. He or she landed just above me, leaned into the car and graced me with the outline of Crow Shadow. The Black Bird watched me at my work but found no food or activity of interest.

Campground internet signal is notoriously poor. "Public Access" means all camped or roving folk with a yen for connection must vie for the ban. From our wagon home a scant signal is possible sometimes when perched outside. Today, I am parked within walking distance from the antennae installed in the Campground/Fairground facility. I have a clear and strong signal to work with. A gift from friends waits to be a workable solution -- the signal boost. So far the software the hardware are not in sync and a conversation between people is the missing piece. There's a pause, a long one, between one challenge and a solution.

Unlike the wild berries and Bunnies who roam these ground, the internet is not so wild and many would tame it to satisfy our hunger for connection. There are many tools to find what we're after. I'm mildly aware of how to tap into the almost wild web, wait for the video to load below, enjoy the breeze playing with my bare feet as I sit in the shade of a small red-leafed tree.

Pete is glad I have a place to tinker with my writing away from the wagon because there are red metal and clear plastic patches that need to be screwed into place. Patches of all kinds make our moveable and specific-to-place Safety Pin Cafe more comfortable when winter temperatures drop another twenty or more degrees and the winds chill us at our cooking or putterings. Some years the patch we need is an additional layer of flannel, well-worn and aired-of lingering chemical scents. When we parked our vardo between houses in Everett, the patch was more the insulation of friends who believed our unorthodox home ought to be allowed. Wedged like a hunk of yellow cheese we weathered a winter patched alongside friendship.

So much of our life from this golden wagon is one of sequential access: to get at what we need, what is stored in front of, beside, on top of it must be moved. There is lag time. There is the putting what was in front of, beside, on top of it back once you find it.

In the process funny things happen. I forget what I was looking for. I find something I wasn't looking for. I happen to bump into someone or something I didn't expect. Moving out into the world I often lose myself to the distractions of solutions and quicker solutions. Yet there is a root of deep connection that keeps me pa'a 

This post is short and sweet. Appreciating the sound of wind through the leaves and a rooster somewhere in the distance being here to enjoy myself, as is, is good. Sequentially the journey takes place; not all at once we get there. Here.

Change is a strange thing
It cannot be denied ... - Lyrics from Ku'u Home 'O Kahalu'u 

The video above gifts me with the visuals of a Windward O'ahu and Kahalu'u infused with the waves of musical root that fuels genius and messages on a near-summer's end. Public access, shared resources of a library aid this contemporary storyteller. Living on a campground where Bunnies roam and I grow old in a rolling home just slightly bigger than a beautiful shoe box, it cannot be denied. Change is a strange thing.

When I am not comfortable in my own self,
In my mind I come home,
to Kahalu'u - Jerry Santos

Me, too Jerry. Me too.


Summer's end comes soon. Rent's due every Monday night. If this post soothed or inspired you, consider sending a tip to fill that rent envelope while I write these myths for the tale bone. Mahalo nui!

Aloha,
Mokihana