Home harvest. Lonoikamakahiki!

23 11 2016
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From the studio garden and the neighbors’ gardens—this morning’s harvest of ulu (breadfruit Maafala v.), maiʻa (banana), avocado, and calamansi (a citrus). Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

“Come, ye thankful people, come,
raise the song of harvest home;
all is safely gathered in,
ere the winter storms begin.
God our maker doth provide
for our wants to be supplied;
come to God’s own temple, come,
raise the song of harvest home.”
– Henry Alford, 1810-1871





In the mood for fresh guacamole

8 09 2012

The avocado, calamansi, and Hawaiian chilies are from my garden. So abundant!





Guacamole—diced, delectable, delightful

14 08 2011

My neighbor's avocados

A couple of firm-ripe avocados rolled into the yard from the neighbor’s tree. So for the full moon gathering of goddesses last night, I decided to make fresh guacamole the way gourmet cook Honoli’i Mike makes it. Finely diced, not mashed.

That way you retain the texture of the fruit, and each little dice is coated with the other ingredients. Mike said he makes his simple. Doesn’t add much of anything else, just a little lime juice.

Food lover that I am, I examined his delectable mixture and detected more than lime juice.

To lime juice in a large mixing bowl I substituted garlic chives for cilantro and added the juice from a calamansi, salt, black pepper, and a lot of minced red onion. I stirred these ingredients well, then folded in the avocado and chilled the guacamole until party time.

One of last night’s delightful goddesses is Mexican, and she pronounced it “Good!” I think I’ll make guacamole Mike’s way from now on.

¡Buen provecho!

Copyright 2011 Rebekah Luke




August means avocado

18 08 2010

Luscious avocados

Hi Everybody,

Our 2010 avocado season is one of the better. These luscious gems are overhanging the healing space near the studio right now.

It’s an awesome sight to me. I can just reach up and pluck them to eat, in about 7-10 days. They will be so yummy. This year there are twice as many than years past.

Who knows why, but I’m not complaining. Is the big old rusting anchor next to the tree finally providing enough iron? Or ditto the VW bug left there by DH 20 odd years ago? Did my cleaning out the heliconia patch allow it to breathe more? Or did the March winds blow off fewer flowers? Perhaps the tree liked the fertilizer left by the chickens and the peacocks.

My neighbors have beaucoup limes on their tree, so likely we will trade and make guacamole. But most of the time I prefer eating avocados with a spoon plain, in their own natural bowl, all the way to skin, with just a little salt and pepper.

Prayerfully in gratitude we await

Copyright 2010 Rebekah Luke

Click below for related posts, then click on your back button to return to this page

Avos and cocos October 11, 2009

Gratitude for my abundant garden September 8, 2009





Avos and cocos

11 10 2009
Morning light bathes tree
of avos sunny yellow
against blue-gray sky.
Like miniature
candied eggs hanging from tree
our avocados.
Through second-story
window kukui and avo
part for coco trees.
Fuzzy lollipops
wave in the gusty trade winds
two coconut palms.
As long as the tree
avocado grows and grows
birds will have a home.
Avocado Pear

Avocado Pear

I offer a haiku and a painting to honor and thank the avocado tree.

This year it produced 15-20 fruit, judging by the number of sprouting seeds on the kitchen counter. That’s a bumper crop. Usually we  gather just six, but each weighs three pounds. They’re super good, and I try to reserve a couple for the previous homeowner, Linda, who was a good steward of the aina (land) and planted the tree.

The season is over, and we’re enjoying the last of the fresh guacamole.

If you would like a little avocado tree from ours to plant in your garden, and you live in Hawaii, let me know.

Copyright 2009 Rebekah Luke

“Avos and Cocos” is from my book From My Window Seat: Views and Song. —RL








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