I AM INWINCIBLE!
GAH.
I go for my usual half-hour walk around 5:30 p.m. It is my first time this week without any head covering, so of course I get hit by a raincloud about eight minutes in. I run most of the way back home. The rain stops. Frustrated but determined to do something with my now pumped-up heart energy, I yank our shovel out of the ground, where it has been propping up a new sapling purchased at last week's Plant It Hawaii sale; the young potted tree is prone to falling over until I can get it in the ground.
I start digging into the lava cinder soil in the corner of our front lawn, a hole I have been digging for the last several days. Eight inches down, I have hit solid rock, as with everywhere here, so I decide to go for width rather than depth. Something tells me that if I persist within this particular spot, I will be rewarded.
In frustration, I start banging the metal shovel head against the rock floor, chipping away at an angle. The floor starts to give, breaking up a bit to yield several chunks small enough to fit within my palm. I excavate the chunks, along with the copious lava cinder generated by my widening. Then I sense a larger, looser chunk of rock at the base of this hole -- the true mother lode here. By digging on all sides, and widening out the hole even further, I determine that this boulder is nearly a foot across and quite deep. If only I could get Madam Pele to give it up.
So I get a small trowel to prop this giant, loosening chunk on one side while I attempt to pry it out with the shovel. It is growing dark, and so far I have a few small rocks, several shovelfuls' worth of cinder, and one mosquito bite to show for my efforts. Yet I persist; this is no longer about a hole in the ground; it is about my frustration with the Hawaiian elements, and my fierce determination to move on with my life. I am tired of digging holes. I want this bounteous Hawaiian earth to sustain us, and I especially want to enjoy someday a tall glass of lemonade taken from the tree that I am resolved to plant within this niche.
Five minutes more, and I feel a small blister forming beneath these garden gloves. I dig into the earth with my fingers and yank at the boulder. It yields. The hole is now a good six inches deeper, enough at last to plant this lemon tree. It is dark now. Tomorrow I will return to put this tree into the hole and nurture it within Pele's stubborn yet fecund earth.
--BB ... Angry White Male?
Wishing you a beautiful day,
Bill Brent
[this page last updated: 2008.05.08, 8:30 p.m. Hawaii time]
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