In an emergency please break glass

 I've been in ignoring my true love lately. Not the man. Not the Mu. The other one that Annie Lennox sang about – broken glass. The  Facebook nag has been carping pointedly at me  regarding my neglected page.

    

Despite no ships in the summer, random orders and trunk sales have kept the little engine that could huffing right along.  But outside all my windows, in every direction the lush lure of endless green insists, and I am drawn outside, a cartoon character floating on a pie-scented breeze.
 The breeze is actually snake plant-scented. Factoid: stateside sansiveria typically lives in a pot in your house and adapts well to most light conditions. Here on St. Croix it is a weed growing unchecked and ubiquitous as  dense underbrush. It acts as background music, and despite a persistent stand of it behind one of my mangoes, dividing my neighbor's turf from mine, I never really give it a thought. Not until I'm back there in the evening looking for the Space Station or enjoying the stars and I'm suddenly hit by the cloying scent.  With a bloom stalk of wheat colored frothy florettes, our snake plant, like Glenn Close, refuses to be ignored.
 Inside, my house reeks (in a good way) of ripening pineapples, outside sansiveria--both so sweet you almost need to prick your finger and check your levels.

 

They are fair competition for the very bold cooking aromas of roasted garlic and Sriracha/chipotle-laden black beans, or lemongrass/peppermint tea and strong coffee I put up in big batches and chill.  Short version: it is so smelly-happy up in here.

   

 

But back to the Green. For now, it appears in the big Monopoly board of global warming we've inexplicably landed on Community Chest recently.  Surprisingly steady rains during what should be our dry season have kept the bushwhackers (men with tools, not drinks) humming in my neighborhood long after the season when they would normally be visiting family or playing cricket, dominoes or pool.
 Nearly every time I leave or enter my house I'm compelled to pass sentence on aggressive vines, yanking foe  and redirecting friend. Foe being wedelia,  also known as Cruzan kudzu. It is a cute little Shasta daisy looking thing that shares traits with "The Bad Seed," i.e. adorably innocent appearance masking murdetous intent.

   

Friend being Thunbergia, with its big periwinkle or white blooms that harbor fat fuzzy bees, hummingbirds or bananaquits, all hard at work on their missions. Primary is to suck sap, while incidentally pollinating.

My trick mangoes, the Keitts are coming in so heavily they are breaking branches. The trick is telling when they are ripe, as the big buggers stay green & only change from matte to shiny when ready.  Another sure way to tell is when the pearly-eyed thrashers 'check' by drilling a hole to reveal the beautiful, albeit beak- ruined, sunrise-hued flesh inside.
As mangoes go, the Keitts are longer, duller, more somber than their carnival-colored compatriots. The leaves are even a much darker tone.  In contrast, the earlier season Kensingtons were jolly, rounded, beautifully blushy and prolific this year.  And the cute little Julie bridged the gap, looking like a fat umbrella full of purple-to-orange ornaments.
 We are winding down to the end of this perfectly-paced pineapple season, with the last six of this year's 30 still to come in. I am a broken pineapple record – every year I proclaim the best ever. I really believe that this year (but then I do every year). I've made way too much pineapple/banana,
coconut milk-based ice cream. Sorry, I  almost kept a straight face when I used "too much" and "ice cream" together.  This week my favorite evening snack is a few wasabi almonds and pineapple chunks together in a bowl with a drizzle of balsamic reduction. Tonight I'll be making a "community shout-out sambal," with Grantley Samuel's cucumbers, Theodore Williams' fresh mint, and my pineapple chunks and key lime juice. It takes a village…
I'll be back at my sea glass soon enough, with renewed energy & (no doubt) inspiring visions of green. Until then I wish you a juicy, wild, inspiringly out-of-control summer.

When a 'stay-cation' is too big

To celebrate my previously belabored 25th island anniversary, I'm choosing to do exactly what I want, & possibly not what you'd expect. I did not go to the beach, or to one of the great local restaurants, bars, galleries, or shops.
I turned off the DVD player & Netflix, grabbed Mu & an iced lemongrass/peppermint tea, & spent the entire weekend in the back yard. I pulled vines & trimmed dead leaves off the palms & bananas, knocked down jack Spaniard nests & unearthed a bunch of lovely surprises.
Under miles of happily yellow-blooming wedelia vine I found all those Guzmania bromeliads I got the last 2 years when Home Depot left them for dead & knocked down the price are blooming again. Juicy, bright & fresh, & just showing off for each other since no one without X-ray technology could have seen them.

  

     

I also found Soursop Wars are in full swing again, with their gushy, overripe bombs dropping all over, loudly & unexpectedly. I filled a pail with their squishy selves & dumped them in the compost to do some last measure of good.

The never ending parade of fruit is at it behind the scenes too. Turns out the very-much-missed when fallow key lime tree is again full of fat little green marbles & my days of lamenting the poor excuses in the stores are almost over. The Surinam cherry is covered in little white blooms too.  And there is a huge bloom pod on either a plantain or a banana down below the porch. Major plant nerd excitement either way.

    

  

  

And in the non-edible category, the surprise winner is the bullhorn orchid. Blooming so high up in the African tulip tree & nearly obscured by neighboring Flamboyant limbs covered in their red-orange petal confetti, staring was required to see the prize. Not a bad thing to be unable to see beauty obscured by gorgeousness.

  

As for beauty, Mu is demanding I think about dinner (as in mine becoming hers), so I'll leave you to look for your summer surprises. May they be wonderful!

Still Crazy

On this day twenty-five years ago I moved from Maryland to St Croix.

I wasn't alone.

It wasn't my idea.  

I was not convinced.

This many years later & I don't even like to imagine the road not traveled. Between the sand in my car & the homegrown pineapple juice in my blood, St Croix & I are one. So by way of celebration here are some fun fraction factoids:

I have lived on this island 1/4 of the time it has been under the US flag. 

In 5 years, when I turn 60 I will have lived here half my life. 

I have lived with Mu almost half the time I've been on island. 

I have lived in the little house I bought almost 1/3 of my life here. 

And finally, my fave:  from the original half dozen pineapple plants I found growing here when I bought, I have harvested a couple hundred pineapples, four of which I cleaned & sliced today.

So how was that for curtailing sentimental mush?  

P.S.  I love you for life, my island home!