Wilderness

Image Taken from MACO Caribbean Living

Feather touch eyes pare

A preserving indulgence

The searing ache

Methylated Spirits

An iridescent stillness

Wildly beautiful

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Poem by Brenda L. McCartney

White Egrets

When I was in University in the United Kingdom I had a Marketing teacher and she continuously drummed into my head that marketing was everything … much to my chagrin.  Last month I received two emails from two different companies announcing that one of my favorite authors would be releasing his new Book in April, so I can pre-order and be one of the first to have it. I was excited, but did not bite the bait at the time, then again as if they knew my buying habits they sent another reminder so of course I bit the bait. I thought; it is a book I would like to have in my library and being hard cover I could not let it go this time so I purchased it.

I got the book yesterday while in the grocery store my husband read a good bit of the book while I was inside. As I approached the car he smiled Brenda you need to see this. Guess what it was a poem on acacia trees, amazing; the power of marketing. One of my friends usually sends me lovely  notes on a weekly basis there are no coincidences. It is beautiful to be able to converse and share life with people of like minds.

Sometimes in life we set a course and fail to reach a destination, maybe because we inadvertently set the wrong course and so we end up at an undesired destination or back where we started. Set the course again and at first it may be brilliant and then gradually we end up going the wrong way. Today as I sizzle and am dazzled by the book “The White Egrets.”  I can not help smiling and agreeing with the familiar phrase “marketing is everything.” So, today my friends, be sure footed and set on the right course, knowing that there will be people to guide you if you chart a course after their own paths. If you are in doubt, do not, because of how you may view them, know that they are already where you would like to be.

Today I set a course after one of my favorite authors,yes, you may have guess it…Derek Walcott!

Lily of the Garden

Photographed by Suzie Faloon

It is the time of the year that plant enthusiasts look forward to Easter lilies. Many churches look around for lilies to adorn their altars. The Lily is emblematic and infuses images of purity, hope, grace and life. I was intrigued by the scarcity of Lily’s in Nassau at Easter because as a child growing up in Montserrat I can now see the field above our house littered with lilies. Now as an adult I look at my single lily in my garden and await its Easter bloom. Sometimes in life we take things for granted until life has shown us a different perspective.

White lily fields wrest from my mind eyes

Blossoms of Easter tide

Trumpet permeates expression

Imbues threads of beauty

Color white

Mingling of imagination and reality

Elongated images

Interwoven

Comb allegory in ordinary scenes

Unresolved moments

Soft focus sharpens

A feeling of timelessness

Enticing with bloom

Lyrical grace

Elegance objectified

Poem Written By Brenda L. McCartney

Our National Flower

Yesterday was our National Holiday in Montserrat, I cooked goat water; our national dish. My daughter and I wore our national dress at dinner and my (Bahamian) husband wore a shirt with a Shamrock on the front. I wanted to decorate my home with our national bird; the Oriole and the national flower; the Heliconia. Before dinner I spent time calling around to see if any of my friends had the Heliconia in their garden. When I asked I kept using the terms Bird of Paradise and Heliconia interchangeably. Noticing this, a plant enthusiast said to me that she did not know that they were the same. As I am apt to do, I researched the two names, and found to my horror that there was a huge difference.

The Heliconia is native to Tropical America and are commonly called lobster claws, wild plantain and false bird of paradise. My source did reveal that the bird of paradise (strelitzia) and the Heliconia were very similar. I must say the moment that I learned that they were similar I felt validated but still somewhat of a traitor to my island. The Heliconia’s leaves are fifteen to three hundred centimetres long, oblong growing opposite one another on non-wood petioles. The Heliconia attracts forest humming bird’s pollination flowers. Whilst the Bird of Paradise is known as the crane flower and native to South Africa resembled brightly colored bird in flight.  The leaves of the Bird of Paradise are thirty to two hundred centimetres long and similar to a banana leaf in appearance.

I guess it is quite natural to have questions and doubts on many issues. At this moment my inner critic is shouting at me because I did not know my National Flower. Yet, faultfinding and blame was not helpful then and it is not helpful at present, but I guess that sage inner voice is beneficial as I have now seen clearly. It is my hope that I will enlighten someone else’s’ perspective as well. I thank God for all that life has given me; even the fringe joys, including our national flower the Heliconia.

The Emerald Isle – Celebrates

It is the week when Irish descendants everywhere “switch gears” to celebrate the tenth St. Patrick’s Day of the twenty first century. My island of Montserrat with its strong Irish tradition and history and has expanded the commemoration of March 17, 1978 to a week long celebration.  Today begins a week long celebration as we observe the efforts of our Irish ancestor’s attempts to gain freedom; that led to the 1768 uprising. Three hundred years on and the spirit of the ancestor’s still lives on and this is echoed throughout the celebration of St. Patrick’s week.  “As the wooden shamrock adorns the gable at the Government house many are busy in preparation for the week.” Custom officers are busy stamping the shamrock in many passports. Slave huts are being erected. The national dish goat water is being prepared. Both residents and visitors move to the beats of the bodhran, babla (drums.) The masquerades crack their whips. The mood is cheerful and contagious and we remember our heritage in varied and imaginative ways. Enjoy the video and view the list events scheduled for the week of celebrations.

Rain Water

Yesterday I was bemused, as outside was overcast but not raining. After that I heard water pouring from a roof into a barrel.  I recollected that this was normal in my culture. Most roofs were made of tin (Galvanized, steel, metal). In order to economize we would catch rain to lower the cost of the water that came to the houses from the springs. This was also used to minimize the chlorine treated water. Some people held the view that rain water was healthier to drink. I also recently discovered that collecting rain water is an old African practice. The book I read mentioned particularly those of the Dinka tribe adhering to this although I am sure that collecting rain water is a custom unique to many people and cultures worldwide. As water is becoming more scarce and there are droughts affecting many (even developed) nations collecting rain water may become the typical way to gather water once again. What is your own cultures view on it? I notice that people are viewing this blog from around the world. Let’s start a conversation here about rain water. 

Lined oak wine barrel

Painted oil drums beats

Collecting rain water from corrugated tin roofs

Sensuous to smell

As customs trek miles of land

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Poem by Brenda L. McCartney

Wooden Bench

Photographed by Anthony Asael

I saw the above image this week and it struck a chord with me. From the image I recalled the days when we would fight to pair up and carry those long wooden benches from the woodwork classroom on to the open veranda for spelling lessons, story time or to play games. This particular spot was well sought after by each class in the final hours of school (2-3p.m).

The school’s conventions prescribed that a teacher had to send a student to see if anyone was on the veranda before going there. When we as students found out that no one was there we would race to open porch.

The veranda had a view overlooking the ball field, a pond, the village of Gerald Bottom, livestock grazing the field, a look at the Silver hills Mountain range and the ocean all in 180 degrees. There was something fascinating and refreshing about learning in the open air. As we advanced on to higher grades our seating arrangements were more personalized and sophisticated.

Your alluring presence

Dark Skin

Domineering physique

Amid extremes

An open eye, open mind

An art to treasure

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Poem written by Brenda L. McCartney

Centennial Delight

As today marks the centennial blog post I thought that I would delight your taste buds with beta carotene, vitamin A, C, pectin, fluorine and potassium. As your presence and energy has fortified Acacia on many days, I pray that this blog’s ‘thoughts’ have truly been a source of inspiration. I pray that the post were special to read, provided some depth and that they brought back wonderful recollections (childhood, adulthood.) I look forward to continuing to inspire you in some way.  I pray that this blog continues to “pique your interest and tempt your palates” with more posts.

Here is my personal recipe for carrot drink:

5lbs of carrots

1 large can of Evaporated milk

1.5 liter of water

1 cup of sugar

A Pinch of salt to taste

A Pinch of cinnamon

A Pinch of nutmeg

A touch of vanilla extract

Carrot slices to decorate

Juice the carrots. In a 2 liter pitcher add milk, water, sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla. Mix well.

Serve it chilled.

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Recipe by Brenda L. McCartney

The Flight

Yesterday I saw a truly amazing sight. I saw a green, red, yellow bird that may have been a Rainbow Lorikeet, flying along a car. I was at a T junction so as the car that I yielded for passed by I saw the bird flying alongside the car for about seventy five meters. After it passed me completely and I began to drive, I stopped and looked back to see if the car had the bird on a string or some sort of leash. After a few more seconds, when the other car came to the end of the corner I realized that it had not been tied because the bird flew across the car.

This sight brought me back to my childhood. There were always so many birds around our house. There was always a flock of pigeons (Barbary Dove) that hung out in the hog plum tree they would sometimes engage in a synchronized flight to the mango tree by the pig (hog) pen and then to the breadfruit tree. I always thought it was a planned secret game that they played. There was also a flock of black birds; we were told if we hit one of them with a stone our hands would break.

One of my uncles hunted pigeons. Sometimes I would not realize when my uncle came home; how he was so swift, all I would hear were the pellets being loaded in his rifle called the ‘hunter extreme.’ I can now see the hard Beachwood part of the gun. We were always told not to touch it; but I did anyway, the gun was very heavy.

When my Uncle would hunt, his friends would appear out of nowhere as if there were some secret meeting. They all would carry rifles; it was about three of them.  Remembering it now it seemed like a scene out of a movie as my uncles would just start shooting in the air and the birds fell. Afterward we would have the pleasure of plucking the birds. We plucked the feathers, gutted them, seasoned them with salt only and fried them outside on the wood fire that we erected on the side of the house.  Our feast after the hunts usually consisted of fried pigeon. It was such a delight!

By the way – do you know that parrots have no green pigment although they appear green? They look green because of the Tyndall effect which gives the illusion of certain colors.

Dome Blast

photographed by Susan MacLeod Edgecombe

What an afternoon! Today, Thursday, February 11, at about 1 pm, I heard people outside the office shouting and screaming and pointing up, I grabbed my camera, keys  and cell phone and rushed out the door towards my home on Bishop’s View. Two of my dogs would not come out of the bedroom, but my dog Freddie, brave little 14 year old fellow – lay at my feet as I watched and listened to the event (and it was LOUD!). Freddie followed me around the pool deck as I tried to get the perfect photos. A police officer a few doors away in the evacuated area saw me on the deck and started shouting at me to leave. I yelled back that I was not evacuated, so he jumped in his police car and whizzed around the rest of old town, siren wining! Wow! The noise and ash plumes and pyroclastic flows were as amazing as I have ever seen it before; it went on for almost an hour. The Montserrat Volcano Observatory Director didn’t come on radio for 40 minutes; the alarms started going off about 10 minutes into the eruption.  Watching the eruption, I was hoping it kept to the east and north!  I was told later that Pyroclastic Flows went 7 km to sea at the Bramble airport area. Some Pyroclastic Flow activity went down to Cork Hill, lots and lots down Farrell’s plain, some descended upon Gages. It was truly a heart pounding event; I am not sure what was louder, my heart or the booming of the volcano! As usual, many people rushed north after the alarms announced “Evacuate” (even in Woodlands). Oslyn in the Tradewinds office got busy on phone calling all and sundry to relax and just stay inside until it was all over. The rest of us – brave or crazy souls – rush towards good viewing points in Old Towne! It’s sort of like a hurricane party! Lots of cameras and chat – by the way, we are all scientists! We diagnose and critique the various angles and directions as if we all had post graduate degrees in volcanology!

The information released later on radio Montserrat (ZJB) stated that it was thought to be a partial dome collapse, with ash to 50,000 feet, perhaps as much as 50 million cubic meters of dome blasted off, that is only 20% of the dome as it was. Later, it appeared there was a big “bite” out of the top of the dome but hard to get photographs because of the steaming and venting. We have to count our blessings, we could have gotten several feet of ash if winds had been as yesterday and before when we have been getting ash like clockwork 3 times per day; if this was a large enough dome collapse, perhaps the worst is over for the time being, maybe we will get a long respite from activity, maybe – this is it and she will take a long nap. Who knows, just like the scientists – we don’t have a clue! To their credit, they did close Zone B Wed because of elevated activity. They can sometimes see changes in activity on the monitoring systems, but can’t interpret. That is the problem with volcanology, it is not predictable.

Written by Susan Edgecombe

Edited by Brenda L. McCartney