Think Big, Live Tiny – Part 13

I pick hitchhikers off my pants absentmindedly, then I reach around to the back of my shirt and realize the damn things are everywhere. I look over at Pete, he’s wearing them all along the bottom of his shirt too, but appears not to notice. We’re standing in the middle of the homesite after navigating around Popoki (cats claw). That miserable bramble wants to grab onto our clothes, our skin, anything it can reach, and then hold us captive with its fish-hook-like spikes. One of the horses on the property once got caught in the middle of a patch of it and had to be rescued. Then there are the young, wild guava shoots that, if left to their own devices, will grow taller than me. And last but not least, the elephant grass, some of which is already above our heads. It has tiny, hair-like particles similar to fiberglass insulation. They attach to your skin like metal filings to a magnet and leave you itching and burning long after they’ve been washed off.

I realized immediately that the clearing of this homesite was way outside of my wheelhouse. I call myself a lazy gardener. I love to have a neatly taken care of green space to live in, preferably with some vegetables and fruits, but I don’t make the time, or have the inclination, to do the hard work. Most of my garden relies heavily on ‘volunteers’. I throw all the seeds and scraps from salad preparation into my garden and see what wants to grow. Then I depend on anyone I can hire to do the rest. I occasionally get my hands dirty, but honestly, I have come to accept that this just isn’t my dharma in this lifetime.

For this project, I knew it was time to call in the big guns. Coconut Pete, as his nickname implies, has been scaling coconut trees since he was a kid. First for fun, then to harvest the fruits. He has been providing me with fresh, young coconuts for years. When his younger brother went through my massage school and ran short of money for tuition, we agreed that I would get my weekly fix of spoon-meat coconut as payment. Only in Hawai’i!

Pete’s business has grown over the years to incorporate all kinds of land maintenance. In the tropics, everything grows fast and furious year-round. It’s a good business. Pete has a crew and all the right equipment for the hard job of clearing my homesite. He looks around now silently, nodding his head.

“I can bring a crew over first thing next Wednesday, it’ll take us all day,” he says and quotes me his price. I accept gratefully, knowing he will be here. You can’t always assume that in Hawai’i. I once got a business card from a carpenter with his name, phone number, and underneath that in italics; We show up. The charming laissez-faire attitude that governs life here applies to working as well. But Pete’s reputation is that he shows up also.

I’m sure that Pete can tell by looking around that I will be good business for him in the future. He knows I will need continued help to tame the wildness of my site. And I know he will always show up with a big smile, a shaka, a relaxed attitude, and lots of aloha and gratitude and do a great job.

Nui surveying his domain (long after all the clearing happened)