The weather here in Northern California has finally started to warm up; in fact we’re heading in to a heat wave this coming week. And it’s only March. I told my self at the end of last summer I was not going to plant so many flowers come spring. I changed my mind; I can’t wait to get to the garden center this weekend.
Kids on the beach. They came sliding down a hill and started running towards a tiny little island in the distance. I’m sure their clubhouse was there. Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer scene in my head.
Greetings from Hawaii (a memory). A little bit of paradise.
An old friend. I first met her many years ago on the island of Kauai. Guanyin, a bodhisattva that is eternal in my heart.
When we met, she sat on the beach in front of our hotel, and I was immediately struck by a feeling of serenity and peace. I visited with her every day. The evening before we left I went down to the beach to strike a deal with her. I told her I would adorn her with the lei I wore if she worked her magic to bring me back to Kauai again. I loved it there.
I returned to Kauai many times, and each time I renewed my deal with Guanyin.
My husband passed away in the years that followed, and I had no desire to return for any more visits. A few years passed, and some friends convinced me to go back with them; they had unknowingly arranged a time share in the same hotel my husband and I had stayed at. I went, unsure of my feelings, except that the thought of visiting with Guanyin again drew me in.
An empty stretch of beach awaited me. She was gone. I was devastated. I showed her picture to every hotel staff person I could. It had been just enough years I guess, and no one could say what had happened to her, or recall why she was removed from the beach.
I still think of her, and hope she is on another beach, or in a beautiful garden shaded by palm trees overlooking the ocean.
In the meantime, Guanyin led me to a new friend.
Walks around the neighborhood provide a plethora of subject matter. Living in a place of wonderful older homes brings scenes that jump out to be photographed.
Kalaupapa cemetery. Heavy feelings here of sadness for all who died here in isolation, away from family. Confusing feelings about what the people must have felt and thought of their terminal illness here surrounded by such incredible beauty.
More than 8,000 died here over the span of 100 years, mid-1800s through 1969.
There were several areas here with graveyards. The photos I show here are in the cemetery adjacent to the little church built by Father Damien I posted last week. We were not allowed to wander about unaccompanied, and I was lucky enough to be in a small group led by a Hawaiian shaman.
The shaman stood in a field in this cemetery and chanted blessings; my heart and soul have never been so touched.
Nasturtiums. I love their style. If I was a flower, I’d want to hang out with them.
Angeline/Suze Photography and Words 