(I found this post I had written in June of last year, shortly before David left for San Antonio. I can't add much.)
David gave me a tree yesterday, as a sort of parting gift. Ok, he couldn't actually give it to me because it belongs to someone else...& is too big...for pretty much anywhere. He has given me trees in the past--a lemon bay rum is my favorite, happily plugging away in my back yard. It started as a foot-tall seedling he found at AgriFest a few years ago & is several feet taller than me now. Bay rum trees are wonderful enough, but with the strong lemon infusion in every leaf, lemon bay is something very special. The leaves, bruised & steeped, make delightful bush tea that, as a bonus makes my little house fragrant beyond reason.
As special as that tree is, it is comparatively inconsequential against what he showed me yesterday. We were doing what we've spent a good portion of the last 17 years doing--noodling around the island accomplishing trivial errands & comparing stories of the day. We compete to see who has the best morsel of island info that might be news to the other. We point out roadside attractions like trees or orchids in bloom, the ridiculous, sawed-off looking dogs you see all over St. Croix, buildings with new & hideously random paint colors & seemingly unplanned structural proportions (David's fave being a house with 3 arches in front, all of curiously unequal size). We cram groceries, sundries & laundry into my already-to-the-gills-with-vending-equipment little car. If I had a quarter for every look of dismay/consternation on the face of every bag boy who, after cheerfully wheeling our stuffed cart toward my normal looking small SUV, opened the door to find the rolling equivalent of Fibber Magee's closet, I could retire now.
So it was yesterday, with the proceeds from a trip to KMart, a huge bag of clean laundry, & even our now misshapen by compaction due to shifting objects friend Kanae packed into the already-packed car.
So of course instead of going home to offload, we decided to press on to the rainforest where some friends sell sauces, chutneys & marmalades they make from fruit they grow in their fecund yard...and bread...did I mention BREAD, baked in their wood-fire oven. Crusty loaves & shiny braids, as gorgeous as they are flavorful. The braid is rich & slightly sweet & laced with cinnamon. It would be great with butter, but will never get that far since you can pull it apart & eat it as you drive.
She has her tent set up next to Mahogany road that winds through the rainforest. The backdrop is their stonework cottage, framed by palm fronds, banana plants & giant elephant ear leaves. Despite our current state of drought, the rainforest retains its welcoming shades of green. David had pointed out there were trees lording over the road there dating from the 1700's.
When we finished wiping out her farm stand, laden with loaves, tomato chutney & cocoa/banana butter, we turned onto the Laewetz Museum grounds to check out the promised local produce there. The end of the day coupled with the aforementioned drought limited selection, but we snagged a fragrant bunch of purple opal basil, & that was generous enough that Kanae & I could split it & each have plenty.
Standing by the car, David described one last landmark. We were facing an enormous tree, alone & centered in a beautiful field. The tree had a perfectly formed wide umbrella canopy that extended in a circle above the cushy green beneath. He said people used to call them rain trees because they believed they actually produced moisture. I'm sure the dimensions & stats would be important, but I was more impressed by the feeling. It was of invitation, but the request lacked urgency, leaving you time to appreciate quietly from a distance first. It let you fully exhale & imagine a day of reading & naps.
I'll make whatever excuse I have to to be there again, & if I ever have another friend who really gets it, I'll show them this tree.
But what are the odds of that, I thought as we loaded back into the crushingly packed car.
