Here and Now; or, Magic Trees and Other Oddities

November is what I like to call "no-school November." Between Veteran's Day, Thanksgiving, parent conferences, and report card prep day (yes, we get one of those), there is only one 5-day week the entire month. The constant interruptions and lack of continuity make it difficult to complete anything at work. It appears that writing the blog is one of those difficult things, too.

So here I am, December and I haven't written anything in weeks. Oops.

Dreams of transfers dance in my head this holiday season. Transfer season is upon us, and I am still dreaming large, and after last year's fiasco, facing the reality that I cannot do anything else to make a transfer happen. There is a limited number of moves in the budget, and if I am lucky enough to get one, great. However, it is not a given. I'm trying to make peace with the fact that we don't have an end date here, and I need to focus on the present instead of constantly planning for the future.

This has always been one of my biggest faults; at 14, instead of thinking about high school, I was planning out my college path. At 19, instead of focusing on college life, I was planning out a career, marriage, kids, a house, etc. (I know, I know. What was I thinking!!!) If it is responsible and mature to plan ahead when you are a teen, it is not so much at the cost of missing out on most of your teen years because you are too busy trying to grow up.

So now, at almost 46 years old, I am trying to live more in the present and enjoy La Isla Bonita instead of planning for The Next Big Thing.

With that, here are some pictures to show the here-and-now in GTMO.

(Warning: it's a little ridiculous. And strange. And awesome). 

MAGIC TREES 

I can't grow plants in my front yard because the banana rats eat them.
However, the banyan tree they live in is growing plants---and they won't eat them.
Look closely. . . 

There's a cactus growing in a knot of the tree. 

The ground cover that the banana rats mowed through
when I planted it on the front walkway
is now growing in the tree where said banana rats live. . . 

DINING IN GTMO:

After a five-week closure, McDonalds is open.
The Bad: The signs say, "Sold Out." They are out of all beef products. Seriously.
The Good: McDonalds is bad for you anyway. . .

CELL PHONES IN GTMO: 

Cell phone, GTMO style. The Good: it's free, and the reception never drops.
The Bad: Won't fit in your GTMO special (but they are everywhere).

Coming soon: Christmas #4, GTMO style! 

Hidden in Plain Sight; or More White Walls

Sometimes when you are unsure about life, just ask yourself, What Would Henry David Thoreau Do?

Heaven is beneath our feet, as well as over our heads.---Thoreau

If you aren't sure, the answer is he would say go enjoy nature.

(of course, if you aren't into nature, you can just go enjoy beer and make Ben Franklin happy)

Brussels=BEER

That's just what I did last weekend. Instead of school work (boo!!!), I worked on the yard. 

I finally ventured behind the fence. We live on the edge of a bluff over the Bay. I haven't bothered to see what's behind the fence until my mini adventure, when I found this: 

Those are coconut trees. How did I miss that there are coconut trees right by my house? They are hidden in plain sight. Maybe, one day, we'll have our own coconuts.

You really have to look down sometimes to see what's around you. Last weekend, I had a 2 ft Cuban racer snake slithering down the walkway towards my front door. It was my second encounter in a week with a Cuban racer at the new house. While walking on the beach, I have found so many strange and wonderful things---pieces of old pottery and sea glass (some with "Cuba" written on it), dozens of types of shells, old buttons and silverware and other strange things that are somehow connected to the US Navy or to Cuba. 

You also have to look up so you won't miss bats and birds, huge moths and even bigger tarantulas. Ever present turkey vultures. There is a pair of kestrels that have built a nest in a tree right outside my class door. I love to watch them bring back the bounty of their hunts (usually lizards). If you know where to look, you can find the nocturnal banana rats sleeping high in trees during the day. 

Much more obvious than the coconuts are the banyans. Oh, how I love them---even if they house nasty banana rats (one plowed through my potted plants---so they are most definitely on my hit-list). 

While I am working in the yard, I am tempted to dig holes and move plants around. I am also tempted to hang up some of the dozens and dozens of pictures we have framed, many of which we never put up in the limited wall space of our last house. 

I have a nice entranceway begging for pictures. It's so tempting, but. . . I am back to white wall mentality. 

We are waiting for the 2 weeks (or longer) for transfer announcements. If a move is not in the cards, pictures will go up, plants will be moved, and I will feel more at home. 

More waiting and waiting, trying not to obsess on the future and live in the present. If I haven't learned anything else here, it's to try to live more in the present and not listen to conjectures, rumors, and "what-ifs."  I've also learned to enjoy the simple hidden treasures of GTMO---coconuts and tarantulas, snakes and sea glass, banana rats and mangos. And the list goes on. . . 

Invasion of the Sanity Snatchers; or, The Great Gnat Invasion of 2014

We've had a little bit of rain lately, which means that for a few days, at least, it's been a little cooler than normal. Unfortunately, this also means our usual tranquility has been rudely interrupted by gnats. We're not talking a few here and there: we're talking swarms of biblical proportions. You talk, you eat, you breath, and you're swallowing gnats. They fly up your nose so much, you quit trying to be graceful and take to snorting in public. You constantly bat them from your eyes, (so much, you may take to wearing sunglasses indoors). It's not usual to see people in the NEX, their cars, their driveways, or the classroom slapping themselves, because that seems to be the most effective means to getting them off your face.

As for open house at the elementary and secondary school this past week? This is what our halls look like:

all rooms open to the outside

So the swarms followed everyone inside all night long, making for a somewhat miserable experience. During my fifth presentation of the evening, I asked the generic, "Does anyone have any questions?" question, and I got the best one yet: "Yes, when do all these bugs go away???"

All of us who had lived here before tried to reassure the new residents that it's quite unusual; unfortunately, it's difficult to sound convincing when they can barely hear you for the maddening buzzing in their ears.

Desperate times means desperate measures, so I see people dabbing themselves with citronella or vanilla extract, and I got a great laugh when a middle schooler was passing out dryer sheets and all the kids had them pinned to their clothes by the end of the day. I mixed up apple cider vinegar and dish soap in my room, but I can't say it has made things better (and the smell---gag!). Hopefully they will decide to move on. At least it's better than the swarms of vicious mosquitoes we had a few weeks before the gnats decided to besiege GTMO.

The Great Gnat Invasion of 2014 aside, the rain also brightened up our brown little base, and this is the view I have outside of my class door these days:

Look closely and you'll see the GTMO golf course! And unlike most of the time here, you don't have to bring your own grass when we have the real thing. 

In addition, one of the huge cactuses (okay, I know it's really "cacti") near my room is covered in blossoms. I'm hoping they'll open. I'll post pics if they do. Then again, this may be all it does. Either way, it's rather interesting and the vibrant pink flowers do brighten my day. 

As an extra bonus, I've had little need to water the orphan potted plants I picked up here and there from the doorways of staff members who transferred over the summer.  This guy was waiting for me when I came into work for a few hours today. 

We've missed most of the movies lately and spend as little time as possible outside thanks to the infestation, but I think the trade-off is almost worth it when you consider how a little rain can transform this place into somewhere a little different and more beautiful than before. And for the break in monotony, I can almost deal with the swarms. 

Pineapple Problems; or, Where's My *%&! Mail?

It's amazing how sometimes a seemingly small problem can become SO LARGE, and so fast.

Case in point:
MAIL

I've posted about the Map of Lost Mail. (Here's a refresher):

Our mail has seen Oman, Italy, Sicily, Spain, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia

Our mail does some great traveling, even while we are living life here in our 45 square mile exclusive gated community.

Mail service seems to have become even more inefficient since we got here. When you only have one small store for everything, you find yourself buying strange and bizarre combinations of products online. Salad dressing and laundry soap? Why not. Moisturizer and socks? Sure. Colored pipe cleaners and 1980s movies? Yes!!

We have a few of those things here, of course. But we don't have the things I want, so online shopping it is.

For the first year or so, mail was routed to a sorting facility in New York and then found its way to our FPO (Fleet Post Office). We cannot get our mail from the post office.

Did you catch that? You cannot pick up your own mail. I know people here don't bat at eye at this, but to me, it's ridiculous. It's OUR mail, but we cannot pick up mail from the US Post Office. Only specific people who have been through training can pick up the mail. The mail then goes to my work and finds its way to our mailbox.

By the way, I don't think most other military bases work this way (at least not the ones where my husband was stationed). As usual, GTMO wins the lottery for the weird and bizarre.

Sometime in the last year our mail started going through Chicago, and that's when the issues seemed to start.

It now takes a month to get a package that used to take 2 weeks. Christmas and birthday presents bought a month in advance didn't make it this year. Also, we waited two months for a part for our Jeep so it would pass inspection, just to find out that somewhere between GTMO and Chicago and who knows where (Oman? Saudi Arabia? Spain?), the part got sent back.

(The part is a windshield wiper motor. Unfortunately the 10 or so day-long GTMO rainy season of sorts hit this past week).

I find myself getting really upset and aggravated over the mail situation. It's hard to explain how this feels to someone who lives where you can go out to an auto store, craft store, grocery store, or even a quick shop on the corner for almost anything you want/need, or can order something online and have it at the door in a few days. I was hoping that living here would help foster patience. Instead of "Less is More" as my mantra, I find myself saying over and over again, "You Get What You Get and You Don't Pitch a Fit." And then of course, me being me, I pitch a fit.

The mail has never been very reliable here, but instead of finding myself accepting it, I am finding myself getting more and more agitated.

Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? Yes and no.

It's a snowball effect, these GTMO problems. It starts with not getting a toiletry you wanted but could live without, and then you find yourself mad that you can't get your contact lens or glasses prescriptions filled here. Gas is expensive. You can't buy books here. The car is out of alignment and there is no machine on base (or at least one that works) to align a car here. It takes 45 minutes to an hour to order anything online, because there's this little internet issue. . .

I've been watering some mystery plants outside the secondary campus every other day with the water collected in the four dehumidifiers that suck gallons of water out of the air every day. When I got here, two large pots of plants were on the verge of death. Now I find this:









Not only is there a beautiful lily, but a pineapple! The kind you can eat!

It is considerably larger than the cute little ornamental pineapples that are growing all over my yard.

While watering all the various pineapples, it hit me this week: pineapples are like my GTMO problems. The school pineapple has been slowly growing, getting larger and larger every week, and is still nowhere near being ready to cut down. I need to look at my GTMO problems more like the ornamental ones----they are more abundant and seem to spring up overnight in weird places. In fact, they are everywhere. However, they are also manageable---I can either ignore then and let them die, or if I pay lots of attention to them, they multiply like rabbits.

(Make that banana rats).

Yard Work; or, Let it Grow, Let it Grow, Let it Grow

Today's weather in Guantánamo Bay Naval Station, Cuba: high of 86º and SUNNY! 

The youngest and I were talking this week, and he says the following:

"So, mom, my friends and I were talking at lunch and [classmate] wants to write a book. It's like Captain Underpants, but he's calling it Captain Butt. I tried to explain to him that he just can't do that. You know, he has to get permission from the writer before he writes a story that's almost the same story."

Two things:
One, my 8 year old gets the concept of copyright better than most students (and several adults) that I know.

Second, OH. MY. GOD. Seriously---do I talk that much librarian stuff around him that he just spouts it out at random moments, like in the lunchroom???

You never know what kids are going to say. It's the beauty of parenthood---those moments when they say something unexpectedly clever and funny (especially if you are having a bad day) or when they pledge their undying love for you and it's not even Christmas.

You never know what habits or hobbies of yours that kids will pick up, either. I wish my kids had picked up my love for working in the yard. I wish my husband loved working in the yard.

Unfortunately, this is one activity I have to go at alone. And I'm okay with that, too, since my entire lifetime, starting at picking huckleberries and blueberries in the early summer mornings while in elementary school, yard work has always been a meditation of sorts.

I love how time stands still when I garden.  I spent hours outdoors as a child and I can do the same today---I realized after I had dug, raked, weeded, transplanted, and watered Saturday that almost 4 hours had passed, and it really only seemed like an hour, tops.

I love getting tan. I know, I know, I shouldn't say that. Skin cancer is a serious thing (and to some people, so are wrinkles). I have had three sunburns in my life, and those were for crazy, 8+ hour excursions in the burning hot sun. I try to remember sunscreen, but honestly, I'm awful at remembering it. (I am religious about my kids wearing it, although they both tan, especially the youngest).  I have weird suntan lines from the various shirts I wear every time I am outdoors, and if remembered to wear shoes, I would probably have killer flip flop tan lines like my husband.

Most of all, I love transforming something plain and ugly into something much more attractive. There is something very zen about taking a cutting and being able to transplant it into a flowerbed a few weeks later. I've managed to give quite a few potted plants away, and I'm very proud that they have all been from cuttings or seeds I planted myself. We can't buy seeds or plants here, so seedlings from a neighbor or our nice volunteer-staffed nursery is the only way to garden in Gitmo.

Houses here are typical base housing---I am thankful for a sturdy house that is safe during hurricanes and keeps us cool in the hot days of eternal summer. It is smaller than anywhere we've lived. but it also have very efficient storage space (and has forced us to weed out our unneeded "stuff"). People here do one of two things---they embrace being part of a cookie-cutter neighborhood and do very little to personalize the outdoor space, or they landscape as much as you can in such harsh conditions (and with limited resources), and find a way to bring a little of their personalities to their yard.

The second would be me---in addition to Pedro the Yard Chicken, I have Lola, the flamingo. Both are made from 55 gallon drums and came from Mexico via Canton, Texas. Lola got a new coat of pant this weekend and looks fantastic (fantastically tacky, right? Because that is sort of the point of having a flamingo in your yard).

The bottle tree got a few new bottles thanks to the seemingly never-ending party this holiday weekend (two birthdays, one bounce house, many new bottles to choose from). I transplanted plumeria and coral trees and gave away some ornamental pineapples. The coral tree came off the tree I dug up from a stranger's yard when I first got here---so far, I've gotten 7 trees from that one. Talk about a giving tree!

After 20 minutes of watering, I swear the sparse grass grew a few inches. It's not perfect, but I do love living somewhere where I can work year-round in the yard.

A hunk, a chunk, and more; or, Quick cash now!

Much earlier I wrote about a common Gitmo saying---you leave Gitmo either a hunk, a chunk, or a drunk. I heard an even better (and probably truer) version: You leave a hunk, a chunk, a drunk. . . or a monk.

There's a serious shortage of women on this base.

Not that I don't mind hearing "Yes, ma'am!" and having doors opened for me everywhere I go.

I do imagine it's difficult being single here, so MWR does a lot of free or almost-free programming for single and unaccompanied service people---kayak and biking trips, hikes, bingo night (seriously), golfing tournaments, ceramics classes, etc. MWR stands for Morale, Welfare, and Recreation for you non-military folks---and even though at first glance, recreation programs may seem like a no-brainer when it comes to budget cuts in difficult times, they are so crucial for the morale of a small, isolated base with very limited facilities, especially for people away from their families or alone. Despite what this place is lacking as far as places to hang out, MWR does a great job of trying to entertain everyone, even us non-military folks.

Tonight I took advantage of one of the MWR programs and went to a pottery class. It was so much fun---they have a slab roller, extruder, and several wheels. You can buy boxes of clay and store it there. Glazes are cheap and they fire everything for free. Plus it's a great way to spend a couple of hours, whether you are single (and perhaps lonely) or just are looking to learn something new. I foresee a mother/daughter pottery date next week.

I have become part of the coterie of parents who scream out their back doors, "Hey _____, come in! It's dinner time!"  This evening I saw a tree next to the playground undulating in a very unnatural matter---it definitely wasn't the wind---so I went to check it out and realized there was a kid in the top of the tree (thankfully, not my kid) shaking these out:

A bounty of beautiful mangoes.They are green and small, but we'll see what happens once they ripen. 

Our youngest has decided that he wants an iPad, and once he realized his $37 wasn't going to buy one, he's planning and scheming ways to make money. He had all these bundled in his shirt and said, "Mommy, mommy, I have a GREAT IDEA. I can open a store, right in my room, and right in my room I can sell FRUIT." 

Sounds like a TERRIFIC idea, right?!?!?  

The idea of hundreds of sticky, green mangoes in his bedroom really frightens me, so I had to break it to him gently that there will be NO FRUIT SALES in this casa since it's probably illegal and with all the trees on base, the demand for mangoes is as low as the price. 

That stopped him. . . I hope. 

By the way, the oldest informed us (correctly) that mangoes belong to the same family as poison ivy, and the skin contains urushiol, the oil in poison ivy that makes some people break out. You can get contact dermatitis just from touching them, and some people are very allergic to them. I am the only one of the four of us not allergic to poison ivy, so I guess we'll find out in the morning how our fruit gatherer faired, since he managed to get sap from head to toe before his brother gave us the dinner time lecture on the perils of picking mangoes. 

Spring Break has officially begun for the kids, so maybe our little schemer can think of another way to get some quick cash while he's out of school. 

More to love; or, Don't Feed the Iguanas

More things I love about Gitmo, in pictures:

1. I can cut my hair and it doesn't look worse than anyone else's.

It's about what works in the humidity and heat. People here aren't total slobs, but we aren't the land of high maintenance women with big Tex-ass hair, that's for sure.  I'm not even sure if you can buy hairspray at the NEX. 

2. You can't necessarily buy bread, BUT you can get lots of great international food.

Curry ketchup, Bulgogi marinade, Lumpia, and Ritter Sport, just to name a few things. 

Also, many items to cause one to either scratch one's head or giggle: 

It's cock flavored soup---and "spicy!!"

3. No more impulse buying at the checkout.

It's Feb 1, and the Christmas cookie issue is FINALLY here! And just like that, all that money I used to spend on magazines at the checkout is tucked away in my pocketbook (and more money for Jamaican jerk and Red Stripe).  

4. I have hummingbirds that live in a bougainvillea outside my office. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a juvenile being feed by a parent. They just hang out on branches, and when you are least expecting it, they buzz your head.

We also have what we thought was a large aloe plant in the backyard. The husband was grilling, got a small burn, and I decided I would come to the rescue with aloe. 

Except it wasn't aloe. I still don't know what it is, but it smells AWFUL. 

A few weeks ago, it got this tall branches shooting out of the top of it, and then strange looking flowers on it, and then---guess what? The hummingbirds in the backyard love them. So glad for the ugly not-really-an-aloe plant. 

5. Also, this:

A character in my favorite novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude, is associated with butterflies: “It was then that she realized that the yellow butterflies preceded the appearances of Mauricio Babilonia.” I feel like Mauricio myself, except I always see white butterflies (and hopefully won't come to such a tragic end---he is, after all, in a Garcí­a Márquez novel).

They are everywhere---clusters of 5, 10, 15, flying through the bougainvillea, the cacti, in the garden, on the side of the road, and unfortunately, often into my windshield. If you can't see the ones above, it's because they are, also, incredibly difficult to capture with a camera. If there such thing as butterfly season, it must be right now, because they seemingly arrived in the thousands overnight. 

6. You get so used to seeing huge Cuban rock iguanas everywhere, you almost step on them. No small feat, since they are humongous.

"Iggy" is the unofficial mascot of the elementary school, and is often seen in the parking lot, on the playgrounds, or hanging out next to the road. I think it's a female, and she's pretty chill---it just ignores you and eats grass all day long.

Then you have this guy who hangs out at the NEX. I'm sure he probably has a nickname, too (as do the ones who hang out at the bowling alley), and he is pretty much the Chuck Norris of the iguana world. He's big, he's obviously gotten in some scraps because he's lost and regrown a large part of his tail, and he is very brazen in his begging. He is one of the reasons there are "DO NOT FEED THE IGUANAS" signs posted every where.



I'd say those tiles are about 8" across, to give you some perspective. I'd also say this guy hasn't missed many meals. 

If I ever run out of things to write about, I will change this to a blog about the different iguanas of Gitmo and their personalities.

7. The other thing I can always find enough to write about are the Gitmo Specials that abound---if I took a picture of each and described all the various makes and models, including homemade paint jobs, pieced together parts, and questionable brakes on more than a few, I would have at least 2 years worth of material.

I got lucky and got a two-fer with this shot. Notice the red/purple swirled hatchback driving down the road. The combo of crazy paint job and multiple rust spots gives it the appearance, at first glance, of a car that's been set on fire---and somehow survived. And this van. . . hope they don't get a flat.

The Gitmo Special is a perfect symbol of this place---a little old and dated, a little forgotten, a little neglected, but for a few, very well loved.

That Time I Dug Up a Stranger's Yard; or, Tread Lightly

They don't call kids today "digital natives" for nothing. My newly 7 y/o figured out how to turn on locator services for my iPad (why? why not!), so now the Apple Store thinks I'm in Jamaica and no matter how many times I turn it off, restart the iPad, etc., I am now and forever in Jamaica.

At least according to Apple. 

What this means, until he figures out how to fix it, is that I can't download apps because "this app is not available in Jamaica." Thank you, Apple. Thank you, 7 year old. 

CUTEST little plant ever---an ornamental miniature pineapple. Grows from a long stem coming out of a spiky, aloe-like plant. You can eat them, but it's a whole lotta work for a little bit of nothing.

One of my very favorite things to do on earth is garden. I can have a terrible, rotten, no good, very bad day, and an hour digging dirt and pulling weeds makes me forget all about it. I was more stressed out and saddened by having to get rid of all my plants---some which were cuttings from family plants, others I've had for over 10 years (and one I've had since college)---than I was about getting rid of furniture, cars, appliances, etc. So when I arrived and saw all the beautiful native species, and then my sad little neglected yard, I was pumped about getting my hands dirty and making it pretty.

But, alas, the NEX doesn't sell plants. And the nursery, like many other things here, was hard hit by Hurricane Sandy. It's usually open every other Saturday and the plants are native (and FREE!!!), but there are so few choices that I feel guilty taking anything at all.

I did kinda sorta run into a huge plumeria at my work with a large pair of scissors. Took a cutting, let it dry, put it in a pot, and we'll see. Who knows what will happen, since the biggest, baddest, meanest looking toad dug a hole and has taken up with the plumeria. Yep, they are cohabitating now in a very crowded pot. And I'm not real interested in taking it back.

A little problem solving never hurt anyone, and up for the challenge, I found plants, plants, and more plants---mostly thanks to a little Gitmo ingenuity which includes---what else?---recycling. What comes around definitely goes around in this place.

We have this thing here called "the roster." It's an email list and a way for people to get word out about items  and services for sale/barter and a place to inquire about such things. Think of it as Craigslist/Freecycle combined. Need piano lessons? Have lots of clothes your kids have outgrown? Want a petsitter while you jet away to Puerto Rico for the weekend? You can advertise it on the roster. About a week ago, someone leaving the island (and there is always someone leaving) advertised plants for sale.The roster is a real necessity in a constantly shifting place like Gitmo.

And that is how I got several succulents that are, one week later, doing great on my screened in back porch and my back door step. I even got a large pencil cactus---I had to abandon 2 nice sized ones in Texas, so that made me very happy. The plants were well-loved and well taken care of, and the next day I got a really sweet email thanking me for taking the plants because they know I will take good care of them. I could tell it pained the lady as much as it had pained me to give away her plants, so I was genuinely touched by her gratitude.

But that's not the cool part of the story.

As I was picking plants out from their back porch, the couple said, rather casually, "If you really like plants, we have two very large ones you are welcome to dig up out of our yard. We already know the guy moving in after us, and he's not a gardener."

I thought it was odd that someone I barely know is telling me to dig up trees out of a yard they don't own, but hey, when I recounted the story at work and three people at the same time shouted over each other, "Wait! Where do they live? Can I go with you? PLEASE," I knew that I was on to something.

Yep, when someone with a green thumb moves out, other people (sometimes strangers) go to their yard and dig up their plants. And not just things out of flower beds---we are talking small trees from the middle of people's yards.

So their offer has been gnawing at me, and I finally gave them a call to ask if they were serious. "Yes! Bring a shovel! If we aren't home, the gate is open." The fact my 14 y/o didn't even bat an eye when I said, "I'm going to the place that lends stuff to get a wheelbarrow and shovel, and then we are going to the house of some people I just met, and we are going to dig up their plants" speaks volumes about his expectations for weirdness with his mother.

So we packed up our shovels and rakes and implements of destruction, including a huge wheelbarrow with "Government Property" stamped on it that a rather large Jamaican working at Self-Service and I could barely lift together and fit in Pearl. The 14 y/o was a trooper---he helped heave and ho---not a small feat, since his hands were blistered from kayaking the bay that morning---until ultimately, the plant guy couldn't sit on his couch and watch Sunday football anymore while we tried to dig up his rocky backyard, and he came out to help.

Times like this, I'm happy that the speed limit is only 25 mph. 

Not only did he do most of the digging, he also gave us some gardening tools, several clay pots, a beautiful conch shell, and some fish.

That would be frozen fish. It's the second time since I've been here that someone has handed me a bag of fish. And one night this week, that will be supper.

The big plants/small trees are beautiful.  One is a plantain that actually produces fruit, and now sits outside my dining room window, and the other is a coral tree, which is in a perfect spot in the middle of the front yard.

Gitmo booty: sea glass and give away plants

As I was leaving the plant guy's house, he said, "You come here with nothing, you leave with nothing. Make sure you give everything you can away when you leave the island. It's the Gitmo way. And it's just stuff---you can't take it with you when you die."

That was just what I need to hear before our express shipment and our household goods get here---I'm hoping to pare down even more and prepare for a lifetime of treading lightly and leaving (almost) everything---starting with plants, of course---as we globetrot.