Culebra Simple Sunday

Late in the day, but the cybergods were at bad work...so it goes.

Oh, if old boats could talk. And lizards too.

I took a lot of pictures of this old broken boat, thinking about what stories it could tell. Then, looking at them later on, I saw this lizard that I hadn't even noticed. And I realized, while thinking of the history this boat held, this  was in the now, telling its own story. And that is how it is, so much of our lives. Out of the past, into the now. It's good to go with that.

A little giftie from another island I would love to visit one day.

Have a Sunday of sweetness. Do something deep breathingly so serene.

I'll Follow The Sun

I'm not as wild for this as for the children's paintings that used to be here, but it certainly says welcome.

Tomorrow, while a few gazillion people from Eastern Asia, across the Pacific, right up to our very own Western shores and a bit beyond (sorry, New Mexico, Texas, et al, for calling you a bit beyond, but I must move along here) get to see the solar eclipse, we farther east will not. But! With the magic - yes, magic - of online abilities, you can follow the sun's drama from start to finish if you are so inclined, by reading this article and following the links.

This is another great page on all things solar eclipse, including the safest way to watch one. Yes, Elijah, I'm talkin' to you! Love, Mama

Who cares if your friends call you a box head? At least you'll still be able to see them laughing! p.s.
They will want to use it too, trust me on this.

The dinghy bottom has been finished awhile now, but I forgot to post the photo. A big decision is to NOT put it in the water until I return from the states. Why? you ask. Because it weighs about 7000 pounds and takes four people to move it, and it would only be in the water a couple of weeks, just long enough to foul up the bottom. Then I'd have to find four people again to drag her out for my gone away time. With too many projects going on, this is, after angsty deliberation, the better course. Instead, we will move her to her safe spot and in the early fall I'll be ready to play. And I have to give you something to look forward to, because, gentle readers, in the end, it's all about you. Really. There now, you don't need sugar in your coffee.

She turned out right purty, even with the industrial looking bottom paint.
Minus her #'s and sticker; might as well keep them shiny and bright until launch.

The weather has been strange, sunny and hot, but cloudy too, with the radar showing dribbles and bits of rain but most of it missing us. A mist hangs in the air, a combination of Sahara dust and Montserrat ash, from what I gather. When my rain bucket gets full it is a distinctly reddish color, like someone threw in a handful of Georgia mud. The plants like it; there are all sorts of scientific reasons for that but you can read them for yourselves if you like, dust and ash alike.

All of which has nothing to do with this lobster trap that sits near the water in my yard, but it made me think of all that this morning, in the watery rising sun. A lobster trap isn't always just a lobster trap.

Have a solar saturated Saturday. Do something screeningly safe.

Culebra Free Range Friday - All Over the Place

Yesterday was one of those that got tumbled, dryer-like, and when the door opened and all the aspects of it wafted out in that clean fragrance, I could only go to sleep smiling. And slightly dizzy, in the good way like when you were six and were twirled just a little too much on the playground by your best friend.

In no particular order at all.

What decorates my outdoor bathroom wall
which aren't really decor but my favorite baby shovels

There is also a huge old trimaran in my yard that will never set sail again 

All around her are boat bits and pieces, sinking into the ground.
The links on this short chain are bigger than my hand.

 In the afternoon, Teresa and I were going to set out live traps to see if we could capture Cretin. I walked down the road to meet her and passed by a wonderful yard where the bananas have gone rampant; a banana jungle.

We met up with Ann to decide where to put the traps, and that is when the afternoon began to take a turn for the exploring side; where I put down the camera to look and listen but now of course, wish I had captured at least a small token of the memories. Because despite our angst over Cretin being missing, we also did what we don't do often enough, touring around the back ways and by ways. I learned about mahogany seeds, which, frankly, resemble horse poop, in the individual bit look, but open up in thick woody skinned petal like pieces to release feathered seeds for the wind to carry. We don't have a lot of mahogany trees on Culebra; they are beautiful.

Up in the hills we looked at homes, some where we knew the owners, some not. We looked at the views and stopping to leave a trap (using a mahogany seed pod as a spoon for the stinky cat food, and yes, sectioned, they do make a good spoon, thanks, Ann!), looked at the growth around us, other local trees and flowers, the creek beds waiting for summer rains, and once, high above us, red tailed hawks in synchronous flight, mating in the sky.

It was then that I first heard and learned the term synchronous flight, a term at once poetic and descriptive, especially after being eye-stunned by the aerial ballet we were watching. I looked it up later on and found only dry words that didn't work, until I remembered a poem I found many years ago and treasure for its combining science and love in a rare way. Oh, and that it's about hummingbirds too.

The Hummingbird:  A Seduction

If I were a female hummingbird perched still And quiet on an upper myrtle branch In the spring afternoon and if you were a male Alone in the whole heavens before me, having parted Yourself, for me, from cedar top and honeysuckle stem And earth down, your body hovering in midair Far away from jewelweed, thistle, and bee balm; And if I watched how you fell, plummeting before me, And how you rose again and fell, with such mastery That I believed for a moment you were the sky And the red-marked bird diving inside your circumference Was just the physical revelation of the light's Most perfect desire; And if I saw your sweeping and sucking Performance of swirling egg and semen in the air, The weaving, twisting vision of red petal And nectar and soaring rump, the rush of your wing In its grand confusion of arcing and splitting Created completely out of nothing just for me, Then when you came down to me, I would call you My own spinning bloom of ruby sage, my funnelling Storm of sunlit sperm and pollen, my only breathless Piece of scarlet sky, and I would bless the base Of each of your feathers and touch the tine Of string muscles binding your wings and taste The odor of your glistening oils and hunt The honey in your crimson flare And I would take you and take you and take you Deep into any kind of nest you ever wanted.

~ Pattiann Rogers

It's fun hanging out with a biologist who loves the earth and sky and sea and all the creatures in all of that with a passion, who doesn't teach as much as casually impart jewels. Thanks, T!

Of course, the object was and is to tempt Cretin home. Hopefully there will be a good word today.

We headed over to Dinghy Dock for a drink or two and Culebra magic lingered. There was just the right group of people there, in just the right weather, with just enough of everything to make it feel like older times, except it is now and the only thing older is us. Older friendships, older stories, older unspokens like the joke about jokes where old friends say "Ha! number 9" and everyone starts laughing. It was like that.

Yes, yes, we're at the food part now. Finally!

The other day on the big island there was a bag of naturally raised chicken thighs. I imagine the whole chicken was naturally raised but I only got the thighs, which, I confess, is my favorite part of the chicken. They were tiny thighs compared to some of the massive ones you can get and I don't know if that is the 'natural' part or not, but four of them makes about one and a half of a monster thigh.

After a few (more) discussions about adding sauces and marinades with my non-marinading friend, I decided to be simple and just sauté the thighs, with salt and pepper and call them done. But there, right in front of me on a heavily laden spice and herb shelf, was this concoction I knew would be great on them.

Whenever I order Penzey's Spices (great company, check it out and no, I don't get paid to say that. I wish!), they send a little sample container of a spice mix. This one is wonderful for chicken, with salt, garlic, cumin, Tellicherry black pepper, Turkish oregano, paprika, sumac, cayenne red pepper, and cilantro in it. And that's all. I have almost all of those on my shelf, but here it all is, nicely balanced and blended and only calling for a shake shake shake.
 I can do that. So I did. 

I also threw in a few sprigs of rosemary and basil from the garden.

The juices from sautéing the chicken went into a couple of cups of water, which, when it started boiling, I tossed some orzo into. Maybe 1/2 a cup, maybe a little more. When it was done (8-10 minutes), I drained it, added it to the now cut into bite sized pieces of chicken, added some parsley and yum!

Add a salad and give it a try! If you don't have the Penzey's mix, and the herb and spice list seems too formidable. at least go with the salt, cayenne pepper, paprika, garlic and cumin. And if you haven't already, get some rosemary, basil and parsley growing! You'll feel so good!

Have a find fun in flung expectations Friday! Do something fortunate with friends.