Yesterday while jogging early in the morning I was startled by two axis deer crossing the road about twenty yards ahead of me. They’re beautiful creatures, but they’re not native to Hawaii. They were introduced to Maui in 1959, in an ill-conceived effort by the State of Hawaii to promote game hunting.

On the island of Moloka`i, the deer have laid waste to vast tracts of native forest. On Maui they long tended to live in the lowlands, where most of the native forest has already been eliminated, but their population has been steadily increasing and their range expanding.

Once upon a time they were never seen in Kula, where I live. Now, it’s still unusual to actually see them, but they’re around. Just ask any farmer!

Perhaps the state of Hawaii will figure out a solution before the deer get into our remaining native forests, but I don’t think anyone is placing bets on it.

Several years ago, in the spring, a clan of honeybees moved into a never-used bird house that I’d hung up long ago in a koa tree. Honeybees can make a good living in my garden, so the colony grows a lot over the next few months.

Eventually, whether because they’ve outgrown the box or for some other reason, they take off, leaving only a tiny population behind, which dwindles to nothing over the winter.

And then in the spring they come back! Today was the day of the return. I heard the buzz of their swarm from where I was sitting, working on my latest novel, and went out to take a few pictures.

The honeycombs on the outside of the “bee house” were built in the first year of habitation. They tend to fill up with bees as the season advances, presumably because there are too many bees to live inside.

How the swarm remembers the location of this bee house is a mystery to me. If you know, please tell me!

One interesting thing about living with a 10,000-foot mountain in your backyard–said mountain rising out of the Pacific Ocean just north of latitude 20–is that it can still be warm enough to go swimming at the beach when there’s a frosting of snow at the summit.

These photos were taken this morning, showing a lovely snow fall at the summit of Haleakala on the island of Maui. For us, snow is exciting, since we only see it every two or three years, and since it only falls at the summit.

Snow on Haleakala - January 19, 2011

Snow on Haleakala - January 19, 2011

There was a total eclipse of the moon last night. I didn’t see it. Clouds, drizzly rain, that sort of thing, got in the way. I did get a glimpse of the partially eclipsed crescent a bit later, but that was through heavy clouds.

Several years ago there was another total lunar eclipse in our region, but it was the same thing for me: clouds, rain. I have never seen the red moon.

Worse yet, maybe fifteen years ago there was a total solar eclipse visible from Hawaii. This was a very strange event. The day before was brilliantly sunny. The day after was brilliantly sunny. The day of was cloudy, rainy. Where I live we even had an unseasonable fog.

So I don’t get too excited when I hear about an upcoming eclipse. Maybe I’ll see one someday, but I think the odds are better if I bet on bad weather!

But not everyone has my bad luck. Here’s a link to a photo taken by my daughter in Honolulu: This is her second red moon.

And a couple of other interesting shots:

Red moon in clouds

Moonlight returning

Lahaina is a former whaling town and was once the capital of Hawaii. The name means “cruel sun.” That’s a fair description, because on most days of the year Lahaina is hot–but that’s all right, because the abundant sunlight sets the gorgeous, bright blue water to sparkling, creating one of the most beautiful vistas on the island. But not today.

Away southeast, Kilauea Volcano on the Big Island has been steadily pumping out fumes and lava for the past twenty-seven years. Usually it’s not a bother to those of us who don’t live on the Big Island–that is, until our tradewinds cease to blow. Without the wind to sweep the fumes away, the volcanic smog or “vog” drifts up the island chain, enshrouding us in vapors.

Here’s a photo taken from a restaurant overlooking Front Street in Lahaina. The island across the water is Lana`i. See that dark “cloud” on the horizon, to the left of the island? That’s murk–like the stuff that belched out of Orodruin, I imagine. As soon as the sun sank behind that dark layer, it was gone. No colors, no glow, no beams of light. It just retreated behind a dark curtain, and the show was over.

Yes, that is a wrecked sailboat beside the sun’s light path. It’s been there for years.

A few days ago the husband asked, “Do you want to help me hike supplies into Kapalaoa Cabin for my volunteer service trip?”

Kapalaoa Cabin, aka “The First Cabin” is located in Haleakala National Park, six miles in from Haleakala Crater rim. The trail starts at around 9800’ and descends to 7200’, with most of the descent in the first half of the hike. I’ve hiked in to and out from Kapalaoa Cabin many times, but never on the same day, so I figured, Why not?

It would give me a chance to take some pictures, and to try out the concept of hiking with two hiking poles.

I’ll admit that in my foolish youth I looked down on hiking poles—until a few years ago when a friend loaned me one on a long downhill slog. I was amazed at the difference it made and I’ve often used one since. But I never tried hiking with two poles.

The first thing I found out is that I cannot hike with a pole in each hand and a camera around my neck. I’ll have to look for a chest pack or something, because I can’t stand the camera banging against me. So I put one of the poles away until I got to the last, and roughest, part of the descent. At that point the camera went into the pack and I set out with both poles in hand.

By this time the husband was far ahead, since I’d been stopping to take pictures. So I set out at full speed—and with the help of those two poles I’m fairly sure I set personal records for the last leg of the descent, and for crossing the cinder flats that follow. Walking a trail through dry cinder is like walking through dry sand. The poles proved surprisingly useful in this situation, since they provided a solid point to push off.

We offloaded the supplies, and hiked out with little more than water and snacks in the packs. Overall, the trip went well—and today I have a good excuse not to work out!

Looking down Sliding Sands Trail from near the top. The trail follows the foot of the crater wall on the right of the photo.

The cinder flats, after the initial steep descent from the crater rim. This photo shows bracken fern on either side of the trail, but the fern soon gives way to a barren cinder area.

Kapalaoa Cabin, built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC).

Oh yeah, we have to climb out again! This is a view of Sliding Sands Trail as it ascends to the crater rim.

A few days ago, motion drew my eye to the window. A bird was hopping around in the butterfly bush. Nothing unusual about that, but this particular bird made me do a double-take:

What was going on? Had I been transported to the Island of Dr. Moreau? Was someone in the neighborhood doing weird experiments on the local bird life? Please tell me that is not really the head of a black finch transplanted onto the body of a cardinal . . . .

A Google search soon informed me I wasn’t the only one who had seen such a sight and wondered about it. The bird in question is definitely a cardinal, but it’s a bald cardinal, with no feathers on its head.

Opinions on what causes cardinals to lose all their head feathers are mixed, but most seem to involve mites and seasonal molting. It is agreed the condition generally takes place after the breeding season, that it isn’t permanent, and that the feathers grow back.

I have to say though, that a cardinal with a head as bald as a vulture’s is a rather disturbing sight.

When I was ten years old and living in Waikiki, my school teacher showed us a film about a tsunami in Japan. I don’t remember any details–it might even have been animation–I just remember the lasting terror that film instilled in me. It felt personal, because my Dad was in the process of moving us to the north shore of Oahu, where we would be living in a beach house set back about 12 feet from the sand. It didn’t take much imagination to think that we might all be crushed and swept out to sea–and indeed there were some terrifying moments living in that house, when the surf turned gigantic, running through the yard and throwing spray on the windows–but thankfully the tsunami never showed up.

The danger is real though. Hawaii has suffered severe tsunami events in the past, and statistically we are way overdue for another.

So when a friend called at 6am on Saturday morning to make sure we knew a tsunami warning had been posted, it wasn’t exactly a shock. My husband already knew about it, but I had gone to sleep before the Chilean earthquake. Our own home wasn’t in any danger since we live way up the side of a mountain, but if Maui’s harbor was damaged there would soon be a shortage of supplies and gasoline on our very non-self-sufficient island, and if the power plant was damaged, who knows how long we would have to go without electricity?

So we joined the lines of people at the gas station, made a quick run to the grocery store (rice & spam are golden in our culture if a shortage is expected), and finished our circuit at the ATM machine.

Then it was home to watch the TV and Twitter coverage.

As you probably know, the actual event was anti-climatic, and for that we are very grateful. We know it won’t always be this way–and our hearts go out to the people of Chile, who have suffered so many terrible earthquakes in the past.

Okay, okay, winter in Hawaii isn’t much compared to most of the mainland, but where we live at 3400’ it gets cool enough that we have a distinct winter that most of the garden recognizes . . . but so far as the plants are concerned winter doesn’t last long.

Years ago we were given a handful of freesia bulbs. Over time they’ve naturalized and multiplied, but they persist in surprising me every year with their sudden appearance in February – and sometimes earlier. These are just the early bloomers. There will be a lot more to come.

We went early to check out the big waves on Maui’s northshore. It was a gorgeous morning with not too much traffic. A great way to start Christmas Day!