Kipahulu, Maui 12 April 2013 : Caspar Institute

Anya's House

Morning in Anya's Garden. Fresh orange juice, papaya, two importunate cats (we have not yet figured out they haven't been fed for a few days) on the deck outside, beyond the rim of trees, the channel between Maui and the Big Island. (We never see the Big Island even though it's just 25 miles away.) We spend a quiet day, reading, walking around the garden, finding the edible fruits and devouring them, relaxing.

I wander barefoot through the garden taking pictures and dodging spiderwebs. The spiders here weave cables of unbelievable strength ... and you don't want one of these puppies crawling on your head!

. On even a softly cloudy day, these panels provide enough energy for light, amusement, and what Anya calls "the biggest hog," the refrigerator.</p>

Anya's house takes its power from the sun. On even a softly cloudy day, these panels provide enough energy for light, amusement, and what Anya calls "the biggest hog," the refrigerator.

In the afternoon, for exercse, we walk part way down the "road" -- two strips of concrete in a grassy slope. This part of the island is divided apparently randomly into homesteads, some of which are kept manicured, the jungle held at bay along the edges. Others, like Anya's, strike a compromise with the rioutous growth, turning the near parts into a lush garden that produces food for the residents. A few can be seen to be "under reclamation," where the mostly-exotic plants left by departed prior residents have invented a new, persistent kind of jungle that is hard to reclaim. This little corner of the world -- Kipahulu -- has attracted the attentions of famous recluses, including the Lindberg family. The great anti-semite aviator is buried here.

Besides our afternoon ramble, we do nothing but eat fruit and our own cooking, retrench, take long solar-heated showers, read, and look out over the channel.