Muku nei in the sign of Cancer the crab

These pictures from up mauka (in the high lands, where we live)

The sky was muted blue with 'real clouds' But the air is still filled with the ash of fires, old La'au the Tutu trees of Vancouver Island are burning. The climate is changed

Brackens are already turning

Blackberries are ripening

Peaches are growing

The tall grasses have browned, dried in place

Purple plums are beautiful, ripening though not ripe enough to pick and eat ... 

Robins don't wait to eat them.

My Two Sisters tiny garden (squash and beans) with volunteer mizuna and bok choy 

The champagne grapes are clustering nicely.

And then ma kai (to the water) and wetlands on the west side of Whidbey, West Beach facing the Straits of Juan de Fuca less than an hour drive from our place in Langley.

The wetlands across the road from our friends' beach home are already plump and beginning to 'fuzz'

It is nearly noon when I took this. A stretch of pohaku (stones) front our friends' home with a small gully of ocean water between a sandy low lying dune. Across the water and to the left is Vancouver Island where the Tutu burn

More 'Ole Po (Monday through Thursday)

 The la'i logs soaked over the winter, have sprouted, but their wilting leaves are a signal: LOOK MORE CLOSELY!

The roots of the two logs have become entangled, strangling their 'ike, their potential for more growth requires attention. Yesterday, I slowly untangled the roots, making sure I didn't break them. The pitcher above is a larger vessel than the glass they'd soaked in for the winter. I added fresh lepo (dirt) to water and have the untangled roots and logs preparing to be planted, after the 'ole po have passed.

 The Blue Lake pole beans I planted last Mahealani are up. One or two planted around the 'ohe (bamboo) have sprouted. During the Ku po I soaked and replanted. Now the 'ole times are a good time to weed the small weeds in the garden.

 The old Gravenstein Apple Tree is filled with growing green apples.

 If you look closely, the small cluster of grapes is forming. I watched a bee circulating. That is a good sign ... pollinating.

 Above, the gentle breezes move the ao (clouds) slowly. This one i ka halawa (over my head) was fat ... but only for a few moments.

 Before I was pau noticing, and recording with these pictures, the clouds had dispersed. It is a dry time.

 Our building projects (a new bath and toilet hale) is coming along, slow and steady. Pete has set cement block floor after pouring foundation for the metal framework you see.

The inverted triangle 'prayer flags' the banner for HO'OMOKU is airing out, and slowly I add newly found 'treasure' from our local thrift shop to prepare for our Open House July, 10, 2015. Again, if you look closely, (click on the image for a bigger view) you'll see how the safety pin continues to be a vital part of our journey. Makawalu ... unfurling from the medicine of story, and my Ma's safety pins.

He hua li'ili' na'e koka 'io

The egg of the hawk is nonetheless small.

Significant things may arise from humble beginnings

-'Olelo No'eau

'Ole Po are good times for preparation, weeding, noticing the direction of your journey, the quality of your kuleana making adjustments as necessary.

Mo'o hihia on a Hoaka Moon

When I was a little girl my Aunty Lily showed me how to notice clouds. I have never stopped noticing. The sky and the clouds changed in a matter of minutes yesterday before sunset. Hoaka Moon.

Mo'o. lizard, reptile of any kind, dragon, serpent; water spirit

Mo'o hihia. series of difficulties, troubles

- Hawaiian Dictionary, Pukui & Elbert

I noticed the lizard skin, mottled or perhaps breaking apart like the shedding of skin too small to contain the mo'o growing. As I watched I searched for the 'ike papalua the insight. The loss and grief, the difficulties and challenges. E ho mai i ka 'ike papalua. On the shoulders and backbone of my ancestors, and the gift given me as a little girl in Kuli'ou'ou Valley. The ao mo'o ... the clouds of the water spirit remind me to notice and listen with my whole body.

Kaloa kukahi morning, midday

 Aia la ka this morning. Notice the two dominant trees? Keep your eyes on the big one on the right, we call her Kupuna La'au Nui.

And he rose on a May morning kela (over there).Ka la shifts his path, rising on the other side of Kupuna La'au Nui (the grand auntie).

Mahina at near zenith (11 am PDT)

Kitty doing her best Kaloa imitation ... just cruisin' while I look for the moon

Hoku Morning

Alaula ... first rays of the sun woke us this morning with light through the curtains

Already we see Ka La's position in the sky shifting. It will be interesting to see how the lattice frames his light over time.

I ponder the science of our kupuna, and the "organization of time" that came of their observations. You might like to read "Kilo Kuleana" over here.

(Muku or) Hilo Daytime; Pule Ho'ulu'ulu

 The temperature was like summer. The air dry. Only a very gentle breeze. Perfect day for preparing a new bed for pole beans, summer squash, and herbs. 

Sifting the lepo to get loamy soil ... tilth

And bare feet!

Perfect weather for drying clothes, too

As I sat taking a break at the picnic table I saw something big in the lower chicken yard. A flash of black. A flash of red.
Pileated Woodpecker.

Mary, our friend and land-mate said she thought we were now hanai-parents (adopted parents) to a pair of Pileated Woodpeckers after the land across the road was clear-cut this family lost their habitat. They're welcome here.

Sunset. Bright orange ball through the trees. In the west.

Later in the evening the sky and the forest was a shade of violet.

This was ka la (the sun) at sunrise on this po. In the East.

The opening line to Pule Ho'ulu'ulu

"Na 'Aumakua mai ka la hiki a ka la kau!

Ancestors from the rising to the setting sun"

Last night when I was pau with playing in the dirt, I had a big WOOW. We live in a place where we can see the sun rise in the east and set in the west. Sacred space. Mahalo na 'aumakua, hilo ia a pa'a.