Posted by: littlehouseonthebigisland | May 16, 2014

Monsoons & Massacres


Our bucolic farm.

I like to think that the way this day began, is how it always is on Magic Mountain Farm.  I woke up early (for me) at seven and took the dogs for a walk wearing only a robe and a pair of crocs.  The air was clear.  The sun was shining.  The sky was blue.  From our citrus field I could see the ocean lapping up against old lava, crusted and scaled with forest, like a dragon’s talons dipping into, caressing the water. All of nature seemed in perfect harmony. The grass, lush and green.  The clover, soft and pillowy. The pheasants chortling in the trees. Our newest addition, a little wild kitty I have christened Charlotte Turlington, bounding up to greet me, following as I went to feed our magical chickens that lay pink, brown and blue eggs.

After, I went and had coffee with one of my Ohana sisters (Hawaiian for extended family of the heart), Juli, who is also our tenant. The dogs were content to rest at my feet as we chattered.  Then the nurse came to help with her daughter, whom we call the Dolphin.  Our woofers were off for the day.  The plan was, to take care of a few simple chores; then to sail down the side of our volcano into Kailua Village for the rest of the day.

And so far, everything has happened according to plan.  As I write, I am comfortably seated in an upholstered chair with my feet up, writing, drinking estate grown Kona coffee that is almost as good as what we produce on Magic Mountain Farm.  My writing partner and I are pecking away while outside, it is raining.  For the forth day in a row.  And thank God, because we were in severe drought, running out of water in our catchment tanks on the farm, wondering how we were going to do laundry, let alone wash dishes and shower.

Most of the state of Hawaii and our island have rain in the winter.  In Kona, we have rain starting in the spring, ending in the fall.  Winter is our perfect weather time of year with balmy temperatures and clear skies.  When it is too perfect for too long though, us farm folk begin to worry.  What is great for tourism, becomes a disaster for locals.  Luckily, my husband purchased 4,000 gallons of water last week.  The very next day, it began to pour.

A few days later, we had a massacre on the farm.  Our upper chicken pen was invaded.  Dogs sounded the alarm.  But I failed to heed their warning, thinking it was just another squabble with neighbors’ pets.  Our woofers* warned me though, when I was about to take the chickens grain, that there had been… well, an incident.  Had they been human instead of poultry, the crime scene with mangled bodies strewn about in the grass, it would have made national news. A few hours later the woofers had pick-axed a hole, for the mass grave.

The fact is, Mother Nature can be both cruel and magnificent; beastly and bucolic.  We have three stray cats at the moment, all abandoned and half-starved that are being nursed back to health.  We cannot possibly keep them all, and will have to eventually trap and turn them in to the Humane Society.  Well, aunties Maybelle and Marmalade anyway.  Charlotte is a keeper.  And sadly, our dog Shep had a dozen back-to-back seizures last night that kept us up until 1:30am.  He was a stray too, that we adopted from the Pound.

In addition to having a lovely morning and a delightful day, truly, I have also had to contend with very little sleep, tortured animals, rain just as I was taking the dogs for a walk, and countless phone calls, not the least of which, is about relatives hoping to come for a visit this summer when we will be tenting our home for termites, and re-roofing guest and woofer housing.


Happier Days

And yet, the longer I live here, the more I love it; mosquitoes, mold, choking vines, greedy weeds, drought, overwork, lack of sleep, sick pets, massacred livestock, monsoons and all, to the point that I am even, dare I say, torn about whether or not to leave at all this summer for the Mainland.

But that is another story, for another day.  For now, I will continue my rainy day, coffee shop writing, sitting side by side, feet up, with my dear, dear companion Stephanie, typing away, laying down the bones, downpours, mayhem and destruction be damned.

*works on organic farms


  1. Poor little feathers family. The cats frenzy may have been weaving along besides the weather. Cats and rain don’t mix well. We saw that there was a small quake nearby. All things considered for a cat. We are grateful for the rain and wished that the blessings of water would come here. The city gets sharpened in the hot dry anvils pounding in our lives. We love the pictures and stories of the lives in your orbits. The news feeds that I found to follow about the world around you amazed us. We send our love to all and everyone.

  2. Sorry about the chickens. But good news for the blessing of the rain (though sorry you just bought water the day before). We have our mudboots and coveralls too, just wish there was some actual mud to stand in lol. Love to all.

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