The wall of Kaloko Fishpond, in Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park, is currently under repair. According to the park’s website, work on rebuilding the wall began in 1998. This end looks good, but there’s still work to be done at the far end.
For more information about Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park, go to www.nps.gov/kaho/index.htm
For more information about Kaloko Fishpond, go to www.keolamagazine.com/ocean/kaloko-fishpond-a-valuable-cultural-resource/
‘Amakihi are endemic honeycreepers and the different islands have slightly different versions of the bird. The Hawai‘i ‘amakihi is very similar to the Maui ‘amakihi, but the O‘ahu and Kaua‘i birds have more noticeable differences. They’re one native bird that has adapted relatively well to changing habitat and introduced diseases including avian malaria.
This one was feeding from bright yellow māmane flowers at the Palila Forest Discovery Trail on the southwest slope of Mauna Kea.
Water sluices over a rock on the North Kohala coast. The dark circles on the rock are helmet urchins, showing they have very good adhesive qualities.
Shadows play on a peeling surface of the old Bond Library in Kapaau.
A tropicbird wheels over an islet, and its lone, tenacious tree, off the North Kohala coast.
This week’s posts are in response to the WordPress photo challenge on the theme of ‘evanescent.’
A few times a year, I like to visit Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden, which is just north of Hilo on the east side of the Big Island. It’s a wonderful garden, set in a fairly deep gully, with a wide array of plants.
In tropical Hawaii, plants do well year round, but there are still seasons. Different plants flower at different times, so each visit is different. The nice thing about this is there’s always something new to see, such as this rose grape (Medinilla magnifica). The downside is that when I get home and look at my photos, I realize I don’t know what half of the plants are. So I figure I’ll see if I can find a tag next time I visit. But next time, the plant’s not flowering so I have trouble locating exactly what I was looking at.
Ultimately it boils down to me making a mental note to come back, same time next year, when it will be flowering again. Unfortunately, my mental notes have no chance of surviving that long, so the next year I see the flower again, take a new photo, and it’s not until I get home that I realize I already have a photo, still don’t know what it is, and will need to return next year etc., etc., etc.
But the thing is, I don’t really mind this. I just enjoy being at the garden, and appreciating the moments while I’m there.
For more information about Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden, go to htbg.com.
This week’s posts are in response to the WordPress photo challenge on the theme of ‘evanescent.’
Sunsets are an evanescent event. They’re all different, depending on the clouds and the atmosphere and the weather. And where the sun goes down changes from day to day depending on the time of year. And to top it off, the colors, the composition, change from moment to moment as the sun sinks and the clouds move. There’s no ‘OK, it’ll be like this for the next 15 minutes.’ Instead it might vanish in a moment, diffusing into a previously unnoticed layer of haze on the horizon.
I like that unpredictability. I’ve driven down to a good viewing spot, lured there by promising weather and cloud formations, only to have the sunset be a damp squib. And then there have been other times when I’ve gone with low expectations and been treated to a cascade of color.
This photo was taken from the comfort of my lanai and I like the striking contrast of the bright and the dark at that moment in time. A few minutes later, it was all gone.
This week’s posts are in response to the WordPress photo challenge on the theme of ‘evanescent.’
In a previous photo challenge, I posted a photo of a ‘mountain of water.’ I’d been trying to capture waves breaking toward me and though that one didn’t break, it provided a surprising photo.
I mention this because a couple of days ago I was snorkeling and the surf was higher than I expected with visibility in the water consequently poor. I figured I wasn’t going to get any decent fish photos, but I thought I might get a nice surf shot. So I headed toward a deep spot close to shore where I could see the waves breaking toward me. I got to the spot and popped my head out of the water just in time to see a large breaking wave racing my way. It was probably the perfect shot, but sad to say, I lost my nerve. This was a big wave. I swam away, too late of course, and ended up in a froth of whitewater, pushing into my mask and up my nose. And then it was past.
I had to laugh. Truth is, I was never in danger. There’s enough space where I was that even this bigger wave wasn’t going to trouble me. But for that fleeting moment, I had serious doubts.
And this photo? Well, if the ‘mountain of water’ was too small, and my recent encounter too big, this wave was just right.
Graham's Island 