Many times when I travel on Old Saddle Road, there comes a point where I’m exiting the clouds or disappearing into them. I like to take photos in this zone, experimenting as the level of the clouds comes and goes.
The top photo has that transition from clouds to clarity, but I also like the ethereal quality of the lower photo as patches of sun illuminate the pastures below.
A green turtle takes on a different appearance as it swims through the waters of Kiholo Bay. The original photo (above) already has an impressionistic look, but I experimented with a few effects and quite like the subtle difference of the posterized version below.
Spotted pufferfish can come in a variety of colors, but around here they’re mostly black or brown with white spots. Their defensive strategy is to inflate into a ball when threatened, thus making it very difficult for a predator to make a meal of them.
Actually, they’re probably doing the predators a favor since pufferfish are extremely toxic. Even very small amounts of the toxins in pufferfish can kill a human. Not surprising then that it’s illegal to serve pufferfish commercially in Hawaii, though it’s considered a delicacy in Japan. There, “fugu chefs” are licensed by the government. The properly-prepared flesh still contains trace amounts of toxins that are supposed to give the diner a warm glow. Goodness only knows what kind of liability insurance a fugu restaurant has to carry.
This little arrangement sprouted up in a cow pasture, beside the road to Upolu Airport, over the course of a week of so. It’s quite substantial with three new poles, fencing, and a gate having been put in, but the equipment itself is on wheels.
I was curious as to its purpose and finally happened by while workmen were there. As the title says, it’s a temporary substation. It’s been installed so that changes in the local distribution network can be achieved without power shutdowns. Supposedly, it will be in operation for two or three weeks, then the poles, fences, and equipment will be removed and the cows will get their pasture back.
A praying mantis that I saw wandering around on the rocks at the coast, and not rocks close to the cliff, but out near the water’s edge and likely to be inundated soon. I never saw if it returned safely to dry land.
Cane grass and other plants are well on their way to overwhelming this old truck.
The weather here is governed by the northeast trade winds. These bring abundant moisture to the windward side of Big Island, but the western side, in the lee of the volcanoes, is mostly hot and dry. There are local variations, and different times of the year can bring different winds. During the summer, Kona winds, blowing from the south or southwest, reverse the usual pattern.
Then there are weather systems which upset all the norms. Hurricanes are the most obvious. This year, in dramatic contrast to the Atlantic and Caribbean areas, there has been virtually no action in the Central Pacific. Only a couple of storms headed in this general direction and both petered out well before they reached the islands.
From time to time, an unstable air mass will pass over the state bringing with it unsettled weather and thunderstorms. One of the biggest dangers with such systems is when a storm cell settles over an area, dumping many inches of water, and sometimes generating flash floods. It’s interesting to follow these on the weather radar. The storm cells show up red, orange, and yellow. Sometimes they’re big enough to blanket an entire island.
One such system passed through the islands recently. Thunder had rumbled through the night, with distant lightning illuminating the sky. Next morning, I checked the radar and saw large areas of red and orange slowly working their way southeast, toward the Big Island. Then I noticed a little ball of orange appear and start to grow close to where I live. That online apparition was matched by an increase in the thunder’s volume and by the lightning becoming distinct strikes.
Very quickly, a cell built up that hung over this area for a couple of hours. It was quite the show. Three times the disturbance was so close overhead that I heard the crack of the lightning followed instantly by a clap of thunder that shook the house. Through it all, the rain hammered down, which I tried to capture in these photos.
Eventually, the large cell moving down from the northwest arrived, but instead of making things worse, it absorbed our local fireworks show and carried on to inundate areas to the southeast. An hour later, the sun broke through and our temporary weather maelstrom was over.
There’s a large mock orange in the corner of the yard that blooms three or four times a year. Sometimes just a section produces flowers. Other times, the whole plant turns creamy white. I do notice the blossoms, but what usually alerts me to a new bloom is the scent. A breath of air in the right direction and the house fills with the aroma of mock orange.
The most recent bloom encompassed the whole plant and also highlighted another of the plant’s attention-getters. It hums. It’s not unusual to wake up and, once the din of roosters and cardinals and francolins have been weeded out, a steady background hum takes over. This is the bees working over the mock orange flowers.
The blooms last only a few days. When the wind blows, which it does often here, the white petals fall to the ground like snow. But while this latest bloom occurred during a calm spell, still the snow fell. When the flowers first began to fade, the bees continued to pile in and their busy harvesting knocked the petals off.
Now the plant is a quiet, glossy green again. The blooms are gone, the bees are gone, the scent is gone, this temporary frenzy over in a week. Until the next time.
