Afternoon the Light

Yesterday was one of those winter days here that are almost heartbreakingly beautiful in that clear enough to see roads on Vieques, twenty shades of blue, diamonds on the water way. I didn't have my real camera with me and while the phone camera can do a good job, it would have been almost impossible to capture that gorgeousness with my good camera, let alone the phone, so I didn't even try. I just sat, mesmerized, absorbing it, while the 'I'm so lucky to live here' mantra swirled in my brain. 

By late afternoon, though, I was ready to give it a try, phone camera or not.

Pre-decorated party spot

Alive with red fruit (for chickens, not me)

Speaking of chickens...

They strolled down the path on a Friday night date

To roost or not to roost, that is a question

Despite the beauty, the no-see-ums were out in force. In my eyes and then in my hair force. Damn you for opening that box, Pandora!! It was time to go.

So far, it looks like today is going to be a fairly close repeat. I can do that.

Have a saturated Saturday. Do something softly splendid.

P.S. Don't forget Zaco's new Bizarre Saturday. They open at 3, with random musicians and artisans showing up, along with a special tapas menu. Enjoy!

Look! That's a Chicken! A Culebra Chicken!

When I spent a lot more time in town while at the cart, it wasn't at all unusual to hear people comment about the chickens running around wild. Sometimes, wildly. After many years in the Caribbean, it isn't so much that I don't notice them, but that they aren't the surprise they must be to visitors, especially visitors from dense city areas in the world, where pigeons are rampant, but not chickens. And yet, how often is pigeon on the menu? No point there, I'm just wondering. Any ideas?

My views are different now. Time in town is not infrequent but usually brief. I miss a lot of things I used to see, on a lot of levels. My views are still really good, I still see much.

I'm raising chickens, but the thing is, they all sort of look alike (please don't tell anyone that I don't really know them apart on any given day). I mean, they are bred to look that way, to give the eggs they do, that's who they are and I'm glad they are who they are. But I still don't know who they are.

Unrequited chicken love

The wild chickens, however, are under no such boundaries of constraint. Oh, some of them look to be from a similar strain but the differences are striking, sometimes for beauty, sometimes for sheer ugly, sometimes for peculiar. I like that.

Checking out her finery

Iguanas are related to cats on a certain level. I'm sure of it.

Somewhere out in the most wild growing part of my yard, there is a little bird, probably a chick, peeping away. I've tried to find it, last night by lantern, today by searching around, but it remains hidden. C'mon, Mama, find it so it will stop driving me crazier.

There is a wonderful poem, called Corson's Inlet by A. R. Ammons, that I think about a lot here on Culebra. This is one part that came to mind yesterday:

I see narrow orders, limited tightness, but will   

not run to that easy victory:

            still around the looser, wider forces work:

            I will try

       to fasten into order enlarging grasps of disorder, widening   

scope, but enjoying the freedom that

Scope eludes my grasp, that there is no finality of vision,   

that I have perceived nothing completely,

that tomorrow a new walk is a new walk.

Scope eludes my grasp. That's a good thing.

Have a widening Wednesday. Do something within reach, without strings.

Let Me Give a Twitch Hitch to the Rest of My Life

For some reason last night, sleep, which seemed to be holding out extended fluffy arms, kept retreating as soon as I barely reached the fingertips of embrace. So today, which I wanted to have start energized, instead started like a character in a movie of someone deep in a drugged or drunken slumber (of which I was in neither), that 'huhnah, huh..gaahhhh' mode, when seeing the sun firmly over the top of the window frame was like a dash of cold water with the same effect. FEED CAT FEED CHICKENS MAKE TEA I HAVE TO PEE WHICH DO I DO FIRST, the most basic of mental gymnastics turning me in circles a few times, eventually leading to a fairly straightforward course.

I'm back on track now, albeit a few hours later. My boss is going to kill me.

After feeding and abjectly apologizing to the ladies, I was walking around the yard and saw this really pretty duck (unlike the truly ugly duck that usually hangs about here). His or her feathers were a palette of soft browns, from tawny to tan to...I just realized I don't know a whole lot of descriptive words conveying shades of brown, a color not often associated, at least lyrically, with beauty.

There is the beauty of brown skin, around here, the shades are wildly endless; there is the beauty of brown land, hey, I was just in the desert. But this was a whole different thing, maybe because it is layers of feathers, I'm not sure, but skin and land words don't work. Because I'm still using the phone as my camera I couldn't zoom in so I was just slowly, slowly trying to get just a wee bit closer.

Notoriously camera shy, are lovely brown ducks. 

Ah, who wanted your photo anyway?

So it's onward. I do believe I might make it to town today, for errands big and small. The horse next door is making quite a fuss, it must be time to go.

But before I go, I have to share, or reshare this cabin photo with you. The web is awash with cabin photos, awash, I tell you. Because I'm a mental collector, I've seen a lot of cabin/tiny house photos. There are a few that stick in my mind and this is one of them. If you click on the link below it, you can see more photos as well. I just love this structure, the feel of it, the airiness, the simplicity. In fact, I'm dumping everything out of the shack and tearing down the front wall, just as soon as I can find a free glass garage door.

For more to adore, plus the background story (as in, you can book this place!!), go here.

Have a get it together Thursday. Do something topping tolerable.

It's All Happening At the Zoo

Culebra time can be a lot of things, but sometimes it feels like the universe is just having a great chuckle, in a good way. Yesterday, Bonilla came to work on my dinghy, something I've been waiting for, for almost two years. Not him working on it, just others saying they would who didn't, until Bonilla. I think I've mentioned money isn't always much of a motivator on Culebra? Try having five guys, all of whom, at one time or another, agreed to do the job, sitting at Dinghy Dock, en masse, discussing the really best way to complete the job. Imagine me, not too loudly howling, "I don't CARE, just somebody DO something!" But yesterday the work got started. The materials are bought and I bet one of these days, I'll have an 'after' photo, with my awesome Tortola dinghy back in the water. Ok. I won't bet $.

'Before'

Another thing I've been waiting on (with the delay no one's fault but my own, for various reasons) finally happened yesterday. Not quite how I expected, but sometimes - maybe a lot more than some times - you just have to say yes to the 'not quite' to get to where you want to go. And so it is with these baby Rhode Island Reds (yes, they aren't too red, are they? but hopefully they will grow into SOME sort of chicken that lays large brown eggs, the mama was red at least...); they won't always be babies. I'm crooning egg laying songs to them already. Thank you, Dee!

Eight fast moving happy chicks - the concrete block is for two things, one,
chickens like to be 'up' and two, it gives them something to peck at and keep their beaks happy.
I'm sure there is some fancy bought thing for this, but a quarter of a concrete block works!

There is a cover that goes over this feeder but they couldn't quite get to it.
Much more fun to just jump into your plate of food, right?

I know why the caged chick peeps

Before it got dark, I started thinking it still is getting pretty cool at night and it was pretty windy too, so I took an old towel and put it in the corner, thinking they could bunch up and stay warm. This morning I went out to feed them and...worst fear realized, NO chicks. Not one. No peep peeping. I lift up the towel and there they all were; they'd crept inside, just like they would under their mother's wing. Startled but not frightened, they reeled around in the sudden movement and light like a bunch of tiny drunks for a second or two, so I put out food and water and put the towel back over them, my heartbeat back to normal again and grin firmly in place. Being a chicken farmer is going to be interesting.

A new season is upon my life, right in time for Spring. Chickens and boats. Makes sense to me!

Have a take it as it tumbles Thursday. Do something non-troubling.

New Arrivals in Lounge 2

Yesterday I got some new land mates. A call, a whirlwind of activity and here they are, the first two chickens of the new regime, deemed Culebra Rhode Island Reds - we'll see. Miss Prissy and Dark Tail (no, I didn't name them and no, they don't seem to know why I call them that) have come to live in the coop. Because I wasn't quite ready for them, they are in the side 'holding/baby pen'. Now, the coop is ready but I don't quite have the arm reach to get them out of here and figured they were better off just getting used to the idea of being here anyway. Soon enough.

Hopefully, more chicks will be arriving this week from the big island (I'm an inter-island chicken accepting kinda person). Let the egg farming begin! Not immediately, they aren't quite that old yet, but trust me, the first egg will be displayed as proudly as a Faberge. And then eaten or sold. Because that's just how we farmers are, tough and ready to sell the potential children of their working herds. Or flocks. I can see I'll need to be working on the farmer talk and walk here. Tough. Repeat. Tough. 

Here they are, getting used to living on another side of another bay, though frankly, I don't think they are all about the real estate as much as the immediate lodging conditions, which are going to improve shortly. If they let me get them out of there. "You're just a wall away".

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These photos have been hanging around my desktop for way too long. They are ones I've run across, liked very much, and now  cannot remember their provenance. Which means I probably shouldn't post them, but I'm going to do so anyway. Bad me.

 This is a French caravan that I'm totally in love with;

the style, the materials used, the airy compactness of the set up.

What's not to like?

This is a fire lookout station. It would be an awesome outdoor kitchen/dining/relaxing area. 

In my yard.

No, wait, I like this one even better! Look at those wonderful shutters and windows. I'm drooling here. And yes, I want it in my yard.

Have a wending Wednesday. Dream something with strong will, it can happen.

Culebra Chickens and a Sunset to bring Peace to the World

Anyone who knows me or reads this blog much knows I'm a big defender of things Culebra. Chickens and roosters, parandas at 3 a.m. - that sort of thing. Well. That was BLS (or, BS for short) Before Leaving for the States. After almost nine years, I usually have only had chickens in my yard. You've seen them here. Once there was a rooster, but after I sawed off the limb he liked, he left. Then, I went to America to seek my fortune and visit my children (who ARE my fortune, so I came back broke on the outside, richer than the last PowerBall winner on the inside).

In the months I was gone, something happened in my yard. I'm ashamed to say, my two wild chickens became...well, let's just call a slut a slut. Sluts. Not ONE rooster, not TWO, but three roosters. They are wicked bad boys too, perching right outside my window, two inches from my pillow, and screeching good morning LONG before morning. Being somewhat of a habitual non-sleeper, usually I don't care. But, if I've actually managed to be asleep...and those bas bad boys start going, waking me up, the war is ON!

You can't count all the hens and roosters here, but trust me, it's too many

There seems to be no humane way to make them leave. Screaming like the un-dead, using the fire engine powerful hose, rocks (rocks may not seem humane but if you knew how bad my rock throwing skills are, you'd know - they are quite safe), all to no avail. My next plot involves opening the door of the coop, laying down some good food and inviting them all to partake. SLAM BAM Let's have some chicken, thank you ma'am! Any chicken butchers are welcome to contact me here.

To highly compare to the chaos most fowl, last night's sunset was spectacular and soothing, even though it was exciting in the oh my god! Look NOW! sort of way. So here is peek at one entry in the  diary of a Culebra sunset.Thanks, Mark, for the ringside seat.

(Doesn't this look like a Mad Hatter sort of guy?)

I know, too many photos, but...I was riveted! Go check out your own sunset...let it nail you to the sky wall.

Light and Light

Feel the power...yesterday some really odd weather blew in. Not that rain was unexpected, or wind either, but green air and water was the plus of Nature's surprise.

Weird.

Chickens in the coop. Chickens outside of the coop. Maybe you remember the wild chicken called Goldie. Well, she now has a family...and her continued goal, as well as the babies, is to get inside the coop. With the whole wide world of natural chicken food around them, they are sure whatever is going on in the coop is the jackpot. And by the way, chickens can move all sorts of things with enough scratching...rocks, boards, any obstacle in their way...except a chicken coop. So far.

Speaking of stubborn...today we will gather together in motley style to celebrate having had Gail among us. Whether you ran into her in her cafe (before my time here unfortunately) or in the bakery or at the bar or many of the other places she might show up, Gail made her mark on many hearts and minds quickly and forever. Everyone who knew Gail has plenty of Gail stories and I'm sure a lot of them will be told today. We miss her.

Fake surprise! looks - part of a birthday photo project for Kim - 2008

Mars Tonight and More Yesterday

From the Farmer's Almanac:

"In January, turn to the east to watch Mars rise at sunset above the horizon. The red planet is at its brightest this month.

On Wednesday, the 27th (tonight!), Mars makes its closest approach of the year.

Exactly two nights later, on the 29th, Mars is opposite the Sun—and will really light up in the night sky. Highest at midnight at magnitude –1.2, Mars outshines every star except blue Sirius."

Go out and enjoy the sky show tonight. Everybody's got one and it's free.

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 A friend I used to call Opal Garry (yes, he sold opals - to jewelers and stores around the Caribbean, which is how I met him; he used to stay at a small hotel I managed on St. Croix) is married to this rather phenomenal woman named, ever so appropriately, Gracia. Over the years I get emails from Garry telling me about her work around the world, helping out in disasters in more ways than I knew there were ways to help. She humbles me, in the good way.
When I was looking for some ways to help out in Haiti, I was cyberly introduced to Santiago, (whom I've mentioned here - a lawyer in both Vieques and the big island), through a friend on Vieques, I had no idea he was a Scientologist, and barely remembered that Garry and Gracia are as well. But that commonality within a formalized framework that was already in motion allowed a powerful, wonderful connection to form for the benefit of Haiti and her people.
Here are a couple of photos of Santiago. Maybe you'll recognize one of your boxes of medical supplies in the back of the truck used to get to Mayaquez from Ceiba after Plan A morphed into Plan B/C/D...and in days instead of hours reached Haiti. Ultimately, I think it was a good thing as forces for good united for even more strength. You can read Santiago's story here. For more of Gracia's report and photos, go here.

  

In Puerto Rico, Volunteer Minister Santiago Lampon gets ready to drive 

a 100 by 30-foot tent and several thousand bottles of water to Haiti. 

The first leg: a boat ride from Puerto Rico to the Dominican Republic.

photo credit: Gracia Bennish

In the Dominican Republic Santiago has an accidental encounter

with South American superstar Ricky Martin and tells him why he is there.

photo credit: Gracia Bennish

Of course, this makes Garry and Gracia sound like 'very serious people.' I've never met Gracia face to face, but Garry, who is Australian, is funny as hell and makes a great drink - what was that drink we made up? - and I figure she must be just as much fun, if only in self defense. Plus, they have one of those marriages where he is her biggest fan, and I like that. Thanks again, all of you, from Culebra.

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I had all sorts of plans for Tuesday. Chickens, garden, making hot sauce...that turned, instead, into a long good day with Laurie and Phil. Culebra is like that...a thing waits that can and what is better often takes its place.

We watched waves and plants along with crabs and chickens and ducks. We listened to crashing water, beating wings, laughter and quiet talk. We ate pinchos and ribs and drank pina coladas and blueberry freezes and soft drinks and some not so soft. We walked slowly and we stood quietly; quietly enough for barely visible crabs to run over feet, as lightly and softly as spiders spinning webs. We turned our strife into plowshares, and didn't let any beauty go unmarked and there was much beauty. We had a very fine day.

 

 

 

 

 (don't forget you can click on any photo to make it larger)

We ended the day at Mamacita's, telling story.

One day, today will be a story we tell...

while listening for whirr beating of wings on water