It's a Wonderful Life

Masked Wahine by Barbara "KoKo" Samson

Rain came last night, dancing on our roof, a familiar tropical sound that we hadn't heard in a few weeks. Rain has fallen but not with such volume. It woke me up. I listened to the patter on the roof and the wet noise through our screened slider near two fragrant Puakenikeni trees outside.

Barbara and our friend Maureen recently strung leis of the yellow-orange Puakenikeni flowers for their daughters, Taryn and Bryna, both mothers, for Mother's Day. They threaded a long, thin needle through the center of each horn-shaped flower. Maureen placed each finished lei in a clear plastic bag with a couple drops of water, held the top of the bag with two hands, swung it it closed. Presto: a "terrarium" bag with a lovely lei inside.

Trust me, one doesn't need perfume when wearing a Puakenikeni lei. The flowers do all the work, emitting a cloud of sweet, natural fragrance.

Still wet and cloudy outside this morning, I head down to the bay to check the surf. I feel as though I am driving through one of those drive-thru car washes. Tooling down the precarious "ledge" road into the valley, which is actually a large, ancient river bed, I spot an ephemeral glimpse of rainbow.

At the ledges' end, a single-lane bridge crosses the meandering Hanalei River. During heavy rain, the river rises and the bridge is impassable. Local courtesy asks that you allow five-to-seven cars over the bridge before crossing from your side. These days very few vehicles are on the road especially before 8 am.

As I enter Magic Land, my windshield wipers move continuously back-and-forth to maintain visibility. I crack open the car window and inhale the moist greenery, try not to think that I have only seven days remaining before this dream ends.

I wonder if those who have been here for years, even decades, ever become complacent with the natural grandeur. Some perhaps do. While driving through the other day an SUV started riding my tail. Granted, I drive slowly, but keep up with the 35-25 mph speed limit. Why would anyone want to pass through believing there is a better place to be at his moment.

I believe it's habit. Driving fast, moving fast from one thing to another, needing to be somewhere else, trying to catch up: this is how we live. It sounds cliche, but I hope, if nothing else, the greater population takes this moment to reflect on how we spend our precious time.

Besides making flower leis, Barbara has been drawing and painting, creating beautiful cards that she's been giving and sending to friends and family for birthdays and holidays. She built a wreath from pieces of driftwood and shells.

It took a few weeks, before she realized the lock-down was an opportunity.

Maureen's Bay, Birthday Card by Barbara "KoKo" Samson

Meanwhile, I have forged the perimeter of the fallow Prince Golf Course, finding old golf balls, some buried in red dirt, collecting them and washing them, mostly for fun. I haven't played golf in months, a passion I once embraced like a religion. I thought I was cured. Now I'm thinking about playing. I recently discovered a hidden golf course within walking distance.

My digression is broken as I reach Black Pot Beach at the mouth of the Hanalei River. This beach and its facilities were washed out in the infamous flood of April 14, 1998. Today I find a new parking lot but only a few vehicles due to the rain and a fading north swell.

Maureen is an avid surfer and today is her birthday. I am surprised that she is not here. With my iPhone, I take a photo of the rainy scene and text it to her with a "happy birthday" message. I'm not trying to be droll.

I see former Santa Cruzer Chuck Reed, surfer/sax player, now a north shore fixture. He's dripping wet.

Rather than paddle out or take a walk on the beach in the rain, I decide to head back to Puamana where my muse waits patiently.

Just another day in Paradise.