Coconuts, Cinnamon and the Cooperative Caterpillar.

With a more regular schedule, I've been able to coordinate an assault on the yard which had become a bit out of control last year.

The landmark cactus, which has been over 20 feet tall since before 1980, finally died - the limbs falling occasionally in high winds or when the dead wood got heavy enough from rain. I pulled those down as a matter of safety, and just haven't stopped since then. It is rather rewarding 'work' in that - unlike many other types of things - once can stand back and see immediate and tangible results. A passing man asks why I don't give him 'de work', I tell him that I want to do it and that I can use the exercise. We laugh.

The coconut trees had grown too tall; if I waited longer they would damage things when they came down - and the nuts were too high off the ground to be practical. I chopped them down which - if you have ever tried to do - is not a simple task. The fibers are very resilient - which also allows very fine control for which way the trees drop. A swing here, a swing there. Listen. A snap, you back off, the tree stands. Repeating the process until you hear the exponential increase in snaps as the tree's weight breaks the remaining fibers - not an easy task, for they are very strong - you make sure that it goes the way you planned it to. A gust of wind could easily make for a problem. The passing man walks by and comments on the progress, still looking for work from me.

4 trees later... 2 days later... some new trees planted, the new logs left where they lay to dry and lose some water weight such that they are more easily moved. Planned right, you know how the trunks have to be moved to create an tier on the hill - using the stumps as anchors. Everything was planned before, but will take time to implement - a coconut palm trunk is not very light and can be somewhat difficult to move by one's self. The passing man no longer asks whether he can have the job, since he sees things well in hand. The yard becomes a novelty for people who wonder what I will do next as the landscape of the yard changes drastically.

One neighbor offers that the mango tree needs to be branched, failing to notice the flowering of the tree and the young mangos on it. Only after it bears - and then 3 days after the full moon - can it be trimmed.

The work didn't go without benefits - as to the left, you can see the start of some instructions on how to properly use a fresh coconut. Oddly, with 4 trees in the yard, I had only drank fresh coconuts a few times in the last 7 years. It just never happened. How strange.

It is unfortunate that none will be in the yard for a few years, but then - there was only two people who drank them religiously in the last 10 years and they're both dead. The squirrels, who happily opened nuts above my reach, consumed them and threw them on the ground such that I could clean up after them - the squirrels were not happy. Shaking their tiny fists, they have found the neighbor's coconut tree which is much taller. I would feel bad, but they have nothing better to do all day than find food and eat, procreate, and have someone clean up after them. Actually, that reminds me of a particular relative on my father's side who doesn't care too much about others he affects. Sometimes it is best to simply chop down the tree and let the rodents move on.

In doing all of this, I came across the Cinnamon trees which had been growing wild in the shade. They've always been called Cinnamon trees by people I know - but I know so little of them. How tall they grow. How they propagate. What sort of conditions they like. Visualizing the yard as it will be is difficult without some details.

I looked up Cinnamon, and none of the trees described matched the trees I have in the yard - the leaves distinctly different. Yet when I crush a leaf, it smells of cinnamon. Digging around some more in my personal library (books and the internet), I found out that these are not cinnamon proper. Apparently Christopher Columbus was confused too. It is "wild cinnamon"; Canella winterana. Oddly, there was no entry on it in the Wikipedia - but considering the rampant deletions in the Wikipedia, I've decided not to contribute anything there. Would that the deletions were consistent, maybe I would feel comfortable with deletions.

The trees are expected to grow to 15' to 25', which is a respectable height for shade. They smell pleasant. They are supposed to have berries (which I have never seen), and that explains how they propagate. When the berries are ground, they are supposed to be similar to black pepper. I've seen these trees for years and have known so little about them. It's strange how that works. It's reminiscent of Richard Feynman:

You can know the name of a bird in all the languages of the world, but when you're finished, you'll know absolutely nothing whatever about the bird... So let's look at the bird and see what it's doing -- that's what counts. I learned very early the difference between knowing the name of something and knowing something.

It would seem that the same applies to plants, among other things. Odd how that happens, how sometimes one can not delve into what something is. In this case, however, it required finding the scientific name for the plant if only to find the archive of information about it. And even then, I will watch and see what these plants will do.

Sitting down in the shade of the mango tree, resting after some physical exertion - the cool wind crossing blowing the sun over the horizon - an odd clipping sound. Tracking it down, a caterpillar - perhaps inspired by all the yardwork in progress - is happily chomping away at something. An alarm goes off, you wonder what it is eating... and are somewhat surprised to find it is a weed that it is eating.

Every now and then, when you least expect it, the universe cooperates. Or maybe it just lets you know that you're headed in the right direction, if even for a short time.