Articles
February 2007
by Bill Jardine Feb 07, 2007
February this year has been cold. We aren’t complaining, mind you. There are a lot of things that go very nicely with the cold, and Waimea is one of the places where you can really get into the swing of a winter cold snap.
It is very nice to sit around a crackling fire wondering when your cribbage game will improve or put on a favorite sweater, knowing that you won’t have to take it off until mid-morning. Life in the kitchen changes as well. Recipes for stews and roasts get dusted off, while salads are considered more of a lunch item. Oatmeal makes a new appearance as red-nosed children head off to school with warm bellies along with Mom’s blown kisses.
February is best known for Valentine’s Day, of course, but in ancient times it was the month of purification. I suppose it is the most mispronounced month of the year as well, but mostly it is just … short.
In Waimea we are always dealing with shortness in countless little ways. For instance, when you live in such a beautiful place life is just too short. We are glad to be short on crime but wish our trip to work or school was a little shorter. Is February any less lovely for being short? I don’t think so.
As we drove down the Kawaihae Road the other day, my daughter pointed out a large bird, circling high above HPA. The school’s campus lies at the foot of the Kohala Mountain Range where lovely green pastures rise high into the wooded peaks of the rain forest, and we are used to seeing those pastures streaked with cloud shadows as the sun plunges between cotton ball clouds. Sometimes flights of homing pigeons flash and swirl as they orient themselves to their distant roosts in Honolulu. But, this bird was different.
It was a Hawaiian hawk, or ‘Io, common to the deep valleys of the north coast but much less common over the long sunny stretches of Lanikepu and Ouli. The Kona breeze was blowing up the warm leeward slopes from Kiholo that day, offering an effortless ride for the rare bird. We didn’t see it dive but watched it sailing on invisible currents in the sky as long as we could. But the time we had, like February, was just too short.
Imua,
William N. Jardine
