Dogs have been in Hawaii since the first canoes landed. Think of the dogtooth adornments on view at our museums, which may point to ilio (dogs) being both friend and food. On Kauai in Wailua, there is even a street named Haleilio, or House of the Dog. Ilio could also be used as a metaphor for clouds in oli and mele, chant and song. That much this writer knows.
Summer solstice once again marked the longest daylight shine of the year as June hurried toward July, and summer has truly bloomed. The thunderous rains behind us (the volcanic eruptions continuing on our “little sister” island), and the heat turned up, the following proverb stands: “Winter’s thunder makes summer’s wonder.”
Researching a “little Galapagos” for my nature-loving husband, my attention was caught by the Channel Islands, 17 miles off the coast of California. I was delving through a travel guide on the national parks when I saw (beyond a photo of cliffs rising from ocean frilled by white breakers) the intriguing statement, “Discovering the Channel Islands is like tumbling through a time warp into a California everyone assumed had long ago vanished.”
Back in January 2014, on a sunny afternoon, a friend and I enjoyed a “whale walk” along the coastal path heading north from Kealia Beach. My second “Green Flash” column told how we soon spotted a spouting whale and watched the emerging curve of a humpback whale as it breached.
March, it seems, is stealing the thunder from April, with showers pelting the Garden Island, weather that is not news to residents and visitors. The alternate dry end of the spectrum is what many prefer, and therefore we tend to decry the rains.
Someone told me recently that they considered attending an event in the next town, but it seemed too far to drive on a cool, rainy night. We chuckled, and I realized that kind of thinking was not foreign to me, even though I know that our homeland is only about 35 miles wide from shore to shore in any direction from a bird’s eye view.