FLUX No. 29 Plants

THE Plant ISSUE

LETTERS OF BOTANICAL LOVE THE DREAMING UP OF FORESTS HIGH TIMES FOR MARIJUANA

+ WEDDING GUIDE, PAGE 64

TABLE OF CONTENTS

30 | How I Love Thee

Designer Sig Zane, farmer George “Sun” Hadley, and florist Reece Farinas write letters of love and thanks to the life-giving, life-changing force of botanical bounties. Letters adapted by contributors Rae Sojot and Brittany Lyte.

40 | Before the Forest, Dreams

For better or worse, men have planted experimental forests in Hawai‘i for more than a century. Although it can be difficult to say who benefits from such projects, as the planet warms and oceans rise, it is more important than ever to raise the question. Writer Travis Hancock takes a walk in the forest in search of answers.

54 | High Times Are Here

In 2000, Hawai‘i was the sixth state to legalize medical marijuana. More than 16 years later, the state will finally allow licensees to purchase weed from slick new dispensaries across the islands. Editor-atlarge Sonny Ganaden explores the fluctuating relationship island residents have had with cannabis over the last two centuries.

High Times Are Here

The medical marijuana dispensary industry joins a culture of cannabis cultivation in Hawai‘i.

TABLE

OF CONTENTS | DEPARTMENTS |

Editor’s Letter

Contributors

16 | What the Flux?! How About Hemp?

18 | Local Moco

Plant Pathologist Lisa Keith

FLUX PHILES

22 | Arts

Piliamo‘o

28 | Culture

Leinā‘ala Bright 

SPECIAL SECTION

64 | A Wedding Guide

In this modern manual for matrimony in Hawai‘i, read tips from the pros about setting the stage for wedding day bliss. Plus, swoon over contemporary bridal gowns set against the backdrop of two iconic Hawai‘i hotels, The Royal Hawaiian and the Moana Surfrider.

IN FLUX

98 | Books

Tamara Rigney, on Plant Arranging

106 | Food

Jennifer Meleana Hee, on Night Foraging

A HUI HOU

120 | Sentiments on Sleeping Grass

 Model Eva Blacker wears the Vivienne gown by Alexandra Grecco, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; Tiffany Victoria band ring in platinum with diamonds and Tiffany Victoria alternating ring in platinum with diamonds, both from Tiffany & Co. Photographed by John Hook at the Moana Surfrider, A Westin Resort & Spa.

ON THE COVER:

Shown in this photograph by Bryce Johnson is a koa sapling that writer Travis Hancock planted for his fiancée—our very own managing editor Anna Harmon—on a recent visit to the Hawaiian Legacy Reforestation Initiative. Somewhere, in the misty acreage of Kūka‘iau Ranch on Hawai‘i Island (actually, via its radio-frequency identification tag, the plant’s whereabouts can be pinpointed precisely), a tree bearing the name of one Ms. Harmon labors to neutralize greenhouse gases.

STAY CURRENT ON ARTS AND CULTURE WITH US AT:

fluxhawaii.com

facebook /fluxhawaii

twitter @fluxhawaii

instagram @fluxhawaii

We started a travel account!

Follow us on Instagram @fluxhawaiitravel, a guide for local and visiting travelers alike. Here, we highlight the beauty and uniqueness of these islands.

Images by contributors @kainoareponte, @brycejohnson, and @ijfkeridgleyphoto.

About six months ago, I started a garden. It began with a few potted herbs that I used regularly when cooking— basil, mint, parsley, chives. A couple days later, I added a tomato plant. Within a week, all were flourishing. Tiny flowers bloomed on the tomato plants, and bees buzzed around the basil flower buds, which I promptly pinched off to keep the plant bushy and growing tall. My garden continued to expand. Eggplants hung heavy from black cloth grow bags, spinach and arugula danced in the wind. Cucumber tendrils crawled up a gate, while store-bought green onions, whose rooty white tips I thrust into the ground after snipping off the hollow tops, gained a second life. I launched into composting, burying food scraps in a big blue bin. I recoiled from what looked like black maggots wriggling in this bin, and then rejoiced after learning, through a quick Google search, they were black soldier fly larvae—beneficial creatures that quicken the breakdown of food waste. I began planting tomatoes from seed, and within a week, tiny sprouts emerged from the dirt. I saved the seeds from a farmers market papaya, carefully squeezing each black granule from the jelly sac that contained it, and sowed them in plastic sour cream containers. I was a gardener, gosh darnit.

But as the cool autumnal breeze gave way to the torrents of winter, I began to see a change in my young seedlings. Leaves that were once spritely and glowing green became sickly and yellow, sighing under the weight of depressive growing conditions. After one flash flood-level downpour, my cucumbers prickled and morphed, growing bulbous in some areas and skinny in others. Aphids, teeny like grains of sand, swarmed my green onions and chives, suckling their garlicky lifeblood until they were a wilted mess. More than a month had passed since planting those papaya seeds, and the dirt’s surface remained unscathed.

Plants, I have come to realize, are a lot like people. They can be like mo‘opuna, or grandchildren, as one Hawaiian healer in this issue describes them, or a sacred spirit fortifying cultural practice, as designer Sig Zane puts it. Plants, too, can teach you a lot about life. Patience, for instance, is a constant virtue. Overcoming disappointment is another lesson. Raising them is laborious: To see one tomato ripen on the vine is cause for exultation; waiting for the next crop is vexing. Sometimes, plants just need to be left alone. After a trip to Los Angeles took me away for nearly two weeks, I returned home to find my papaya seeds had finally sprouted, their silky shoots breaking the surface.

With aloha,

Lisa Yamada EDITOR lisa@nellamediagroup.com

MASTHEAD

PUBLISHER

Jason Cutinella

EDITOR

Lisa Yamada

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

Ara Feducia

MANAGING EDITOR

Anna Harmon

DESIGNER

Michelle Ganeku

PHOTOGRAPHY DIRECTOR

John Hook

PHOTO EDITOR

Samantha Hook

COPY EDITOR

Andy Beth Miller

Brad Dell

EDITOR-AT-LARGE

Sonny Ganaden

IMAGES

Bryce Johnson

Lila Lee

Mariko Reed

IJfke Ridgley

Meagan Suzuki

“Place plants near windows where they get some natural light, then water when dry (every 2–5 days). I like to feed them every month with plant food, such as Miracle Grow, or my favorite, worm tea from a home compost. One or two times a year, I add fresh soil with lots of nutrients.”

 Tips from our resident green thumbs on keeping plants in an office:

CONTRIBUTORS

Matthew Dekneef

Travis Hancock

Jennifer Meleana Hee

Brittany Lyte

Tamara Rigney

Timothy A. Schuler

Jade Snow

Rae Sojot

WEB DEVELOPER

Matthew McVickar

ADVERTISING

Mike Wiley GROUP PUBLISHER mike@nellamediagroup.com

Keely Bruns MARKETING & ADVERTISING DIRECTOR keely@nellamediagroup.com

Chelsea Tsuchida MARKETING & ADVERTISING EXECUTIVE

OPERATIONS

Joe V. Bock CHIEF REVENUE OFFICER joe@nellamediagroup.com

Gary Payne VP BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT gpayne@nellamediagroup.com

Jill Miyashiro OPERATIONS DIRECTOR jill@nellamediagroup.com

Mitchell Fong JUNIOR DESIGNER

INTERN Eunica Escalante

General Inquiries: contact@fluxhawaii.com

©2009-2017 by Nella Media Group, LLC. Contents of FLUX Hawaii are protected by copyright and may not be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the publisher.

FLUX Hawaii accepts no responsibility for unsolicited manuscripts and/or photographs and assumes no liability for products or services advertised

PUBLISHED BY:

Nella Media Group P.O. Box 38181 Honolulu, HI 96817

“Don’t overwater them! Mold is just as bad for plants as not watering them, and office plants usually don’t get good drainage.”

herein. FLUX Hawaii reserves the right to edit, rewrite, refuse or reuse material, is not responsible for errors and omissions and may feature same on fluxhawaii.com, as well as other mediums for any and all purposes.

FLUX Hawaii is a quarterly lifestyle publication.

Sonny Ganaden

“In some ways, it’s the same old story: a new industry is quickly dominated by corporate interests, and law follows the money,” Sonny Ganaden says of his experience writing about Hawai‘i’s burgeoning medical marijuana industry on page 54. “In other ways, it’s about a valid, effective, and safe drug that patients absolutely need. None of us can predict how this will play out. Like many others who work in criminal justice, I just hope the increasing legalization of marijuana leads to less young people caught up in the system, and a safer community.” Ganaden, who also serves as an instructor at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, was named “Best Single Writer” by the Hawai‘i chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists for his work in Flux Hawaii.

Travis Hancock

“I have wanted to write about Lāna‘i since camping there in 2011,” Travis Hancock says of his story featuring Cook pines on page 40. The writer, who hails from the North Shore of O‘ahu, continues: “When I went back to the island in 2016, I saw construction workers’ fluorescent shirts draped over the balcony railings of the Four Seasons Lodge at Kō‘ele, where they were housed during Larry Ellison’s renovation of the hotel at Mānele Bay. Behind the lodge, I found a dense grove of Cook pines called ‘The Cathedral of Trees.’ The name suggests a certain reverence for the trees, which I think speaks to their generally assumed goodness—it’s unpopular to question the motivations behind planting them. But the more one looks into the history of Hawai‘i, where the environment has been at the disposal of economic interests for the past two centuries, the more important it seems to question what’s been planted, what we’re planting today, and why.”

Rae Sojot

“Ghostwriting the letters was challenging and lovely in equal measure,” says writer Rae Sojot, who adapted interviews she conducted with Sig Zane and Reece Farinas into letters of love and gratitude on page 30. “Listening to and witnessing a person’s experience with plants and then creating a personal piece on behalf of them is really an act of intimacy that I was honored to be a part of. I was deeply moved by spiritual relationships that the Zane family has with native plants. This assignment also illuminated some of my own emotional connections to plants. When I was a little girl, my mother worked as a florist. Stepping into Beretania Florist’s back room, filled with so many fragrant, beautiful flowers, was like stepping back in time, bringing forth a rush of sweetly scented memories from my own childhood.”

Meagan Suzuki

On a mission to find and document edible plants at night, Meagan Suzuki discovered a newfound appreciation for food— specifically, of the time it takes for plants to grow. “I used to think of cooking time in terms of how long it would take to buy the ingredients and prepare them, but I never thought about how long it takes to grow a mushroom, or a lime, or a grain of rice, especially in the wild,” the O‘ahu photographer says of her foraging experience pictured on page 106. “Those mushrooms weren’t planted and harvested at a farm. They grew completely naturally, and it’s so interesting to think about how they came to be.” Before pursuing photography, Suzuki earned her degree in environmental science. Despite being captivated by the outdoors, forests at night send a shiver down her spine. “But having a mission,” she says, “made me far less afraid.”

How About Hemp?

Could hemp be Hawai‘i’s next cash crop?

COMPILED BY

TIMOTHY A. SCHULER

Hemp’s story is one of guilt by association. Although technically in the same species as marijuana (Cannabis sativa), hemp contains less than 0.3 percent of THC, the

12 feet

psychoactive chemical that gets humans high. (Medical marijuana can contain anywhere from 3 percent to 30 percent.) Early in U.S. history, hemp was a cash crop, grown by Founding Fathers Thomas Jefferson and George Washington, and used to make everything from fishing nets to paper. By the mid-20th century, however, the cultivation of hemp had dropped severely due to the illegalization of marijuana and the invention of alternative manufacturing materials. The last legal U.S. hemp crop was harvested in 1957.

But now the once-iconic crop is making a comeback, and Hawai‘i,

The height to which hemp can grow in as little as 15 weeks in Hawai‘i’s subtropical climate. That’s about the same height of sugarcane.

Hemp has the same iconic leaf as marijuana: a palmate shape with 5 to 7 long, narrow leaflets.

<0.3%

Amount of THC in industrial hemp, compared to 3% to 30% in medicinal marijuana and other narcotic strains.

Experts estimate that hemp can be made into 25,000 different products.

Hemp is harvested either for its seeds (which can be eaten, pressed into hemp seed oil or hemp milk, or sold to other farmers) or for its stalks, which are used for hemp fiber.

HEMP SEEDS ARE ON PAR WITH FLAX OR CHIA SEEDS

Two tablespoons contain:

6 grams of fat

5 grams of protein

2 grams of fiber

Hemp seeds also contain high levels of essential omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids, which are rare in plant proteins.

Hemp is believed to be one of the oldest examples of human industry. Relics dating back 10,000 years, even as far back as 12,000 years, show that hemp was used in textiles.

North America, the Virginia Assembly passes legislation requiring farmers to grow hemp. Hemp serves as legal tender in Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Maryland.

looking to replace its once-thriving sugarcane industry, is banking on hemp as an economic and environmental boon. Young entrepreneurs like HVN Apparel’s Travis Ito, whose hip, eco-conscious brand offers T-shirts made from 60 percent hemp fiber, sees a market for high-end hemp products. Agricultural experts, however, caution that the Hawai‘i market is quickly saturated. To export hemp would mean competing with other countries where labor and other costs are far less expensive. Here, we break down this history of hemp, and what it might mean for the Aloha State.

ECOLOGICAL BENEFITS

10 mm

Amount of water per week needed to grow hemp during UH’s trial in Waimānalo. That’s about half the water required by sugarcane.

Unlike sugarcane, hemp does not require any herbicides or pesticides to grow.

10%–20%

The increases a 1998 study saw in wheat yields following the cultivation of hemp. Grown in rotation with other crops, the nitrogen that fallen hemp leaves return to depleted soil can help produce higher yields.

LEAD, COPPER, ZINC, CADMIUM

Some of the heavy metals hemp has been shown to absorb without hurting the plant. Hemp has been used for phytoremediation , the use of plants to treat contaminated sites, including those around Chernobyl.

7

The number of contaminated sites in Hawai‘i that require hazardous waste treatment, of more than 1,000 contaminated sites in the U.S.

3,000

Pounds of carbon sequestered by 100 square feet of hempcrete, a hemp-based building material.

Faced with a hemp shortage—the material still being necessary for marine cordage and military parachutes—the U.S. Department of Agriculture launches “Hemp for Victory,” granting draft deferments to farmers of hemp crops. By 1943, farmers are harvesting 375,000 acres.

nylon, reducing the demand for hemp fiber.

The Boggs Act introduces mandatory sentences for drug-related offenses.

The Marihuana Tax Act taxes cannabis sales and makes violations punishable by up to five years imprisonment.

1619

In the British colonies of

The Pure Food and Drug Act requires companies to label over-the-counter drugs that contain potentially addictive substances, such as cannabis, opium, and morphine.

DuPont patents

The last legal hemp crop in the United States is harvested in Wisconsin.

THE BASICS HEMP’S HUNDREDS OF USES

’ S

THE MARKET

The U.S. hemp market is small but not nonexistent. It is currently valued at $573 million , though it may be higher since retailers such as Whole Foods and Costco do not report sales data.

2015 U.S. HEMP MARKET

$1 billion

Proponents point to Canada as an example of hemp’s potential: In less than 20 years, the country’s hemp industry is close to becoming a billion-dollar business.

personal care products: 26%

industrial applications such as car parts: 20% textiles: 17% hemp foods, such as hemp seeds: 16% hemp-derived cannabidiol products: 11% supplements: 8% other consumer products: 2%

1.13

million acres

The amount of available farmland out of Hawai‘i’s more than 4 million acres. Nearly 20 percent of that land is not in active production.

3 per year

The number of crops a University of Hawai‘i report estimates that Hawai‘i farmers could reap if harvesting hemp stalks, and 2 crops per year if harvesting seed, because of the islands’ advantageous climate.

Hemp

$250

Profit per acre reported from hemp in Canada in 2013.

$71

Profit per acre reported from soy in the U.S. in 2014.

In Canada, where industrial hemp has been legal since 1998, hemp production quadrupled between 2008 (10,000 acres) and 2011 (40,000 acres).

allows cultivation of hemp for commercial, research, or pilot programs does not allow cultivation of hemp

The U.S. imports nearly 100% of the hemp products it consumes.

34%

Increase in global production between 1999 and 2011.

36,000 acres

The amount of land on Maui that Hawaii Cane & Sugar ceased farming sugarcane on in 2016. Alexander & Baldwin, which owns the land, plans to test hemp on a portion of the property.

3 tons

How much hemp seed could potentially be grown per acre on Maui farmland.

Hawai‘i and North Dakota unsuccessfully attempt to legalize hemp farming. Hawai‘i, however, obtains permission from the DEA to plant hemp in a research project sponsored by haircare company Alterna.

“Under current market conditions, it does not appear that anticipated hemp returns will be large enough to entice Kentucky grain growers to shift out of grain production.”

 From a 2013 study by researchers at the University of Kentucky.

Labor accounts for upwards of 40% of the cost of farming in Hawai‘i , and hemp is labor-intensive, involving about a dozen steps from initial cutting to final shipping.

The price of energy in Hawai‘i is also increasing at 3 times the average rate in the U.S.

The U.S. Farm Bill relaxes restrictions on growing hemp. In Hawai‘i, Governor Neil Abercrombie signs a bill authorizing an industrial hemp pilot program at the University of Hawai‘i.

Hawai‘i passes legislation allowing the state to cultivate industrial hemp.

The Detective of Disease

Plant pathologist Lisa Keith helps uncover some of Hawai‘i’s most notorious killers.

TEXT BY TIMOTHY A. SCHULER

IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK

When I first meet Lisa Keith, she’s wearing mismatched pink and purple socks. We’re inside her laboratory at the Daniel K. Inouye Pacific Basin Agricultural Research Center on the outskirts of Hilo. Besides the security badge I’m required to wear, it feels like a more cluttered version of my high school science lab. Every shelf is crammed with boxes of latex gloves and little bottles of colored liquid. The refrigerators read “Authorized Personnel Only.” It’s a Wednesday in late August 2016, and Keith, a slight woman with unruly brown hair and a smile that engulfs her narrow face, is explaining how she and her team uncovered the identity of one of Hawai‘i’s most notorious killers: the disease known as rapid ‘ōhi‘a death, which, in the past six years, has infected nearly 50,000 acres of Hawai‘i Islands’s native forest.

Keith is a plant pathologist, which means that she studies diseases in plants for a living. Like doctors and homicide detectives, in a world without death, plant pathologists wouldn’t exist. There are thousands, if not millions, of known plant pathogens in the world, and hundreds in Hawai‘i alone. Keith’s job is to identify those pathogens, which can take the form of viruses, fungi, bacteria, or nematodes, and learn as much about them as she can. Where do they live? How do they spread? How do they kill? In the case of this previously unknown strain of Ceratocystis fimbriata, the pathogenic fungus that affects the ‘ōhi‘a lehua tree, it prefers strangling. The fungus enters the tree through a wound— a broken limb, say—and spreads into the tree’s sapwood, the soft outer layer that conveys water from the tree’s roots to its leaves. It eventually cuts off the water supply entirely. Once that happens, the tree will be dead within weeks, hence the fungus’s nickname.

That the disease can spread and kill so quickly has alarmed scientists and residents alike. ‘Ōhi‘a is one of Hawai‘i’s most important native trees, featured in Hawaiian mo‘olelo and in cultural practices like hula, and a critical part of a complex ecosystem. The tree is one of only a few species that grows among the island’s lava fields; over time, the trees transform

the barren terrain into a dense, wooded landscape thrumming with native birds and other wildlife. ‘Ōhi‘a forests, with their dense foliage and elaborate root systems, also help rainwater soak into the ground, recharging the island’s aquifer and preventing erosion that leads to flooding, brown water events, and the loss of coral.

Listening to people describe the early days of the epidemic, in 2010 and 2011, is like listening to the opening scenes of a zombie apocalypse movie. ‘Ōhi‘a began dying by the dozens, then the hundreds. No one knew what was killing them. All of the tests for known diseases came back negative. In 2014, Keith, who had moved to Hilo in 2002 to study agricultural diseases with the USDA’s Agricultural Research Service, was contacted by Brian Bushe, a faculty member at the University of Hawai‘i’s College of Tropical Agriculture and Human Resources. Bushe was trying to crack these mysterious ‘ōhi‘a deaths, and he had narrowed the list of suspects down to the genus Ceratocystis. “I remember getting the call,” Keith says. “[Brian] asked, ‘Would you be interested in helping take a look at this?’ That was a big turning point.”

It took several months and methods, including a molecular DNA test, for Keith and her team to identify Ceratocystis fimbriata. In 2015, the state enacted a quarantine to prevent the disease from spreading to neighbor islands, which, thus far, seems to have worked; to date, there have been no confirmed cases on other islands. On Hawai‘i Island, however, the disease has not flagged. In November 2016, the first confirmed case of rapid ‘ōhi‘a death was reported on the Hāmākua Coast, marking a worrisome northward expansion.

 In 2010, plant pathologist Lisa Keith and her team at Daniel K. Inouye Pacific Basin Agricultural Research Center discovered the identity of one of Hawai‘i’s most notorious killers: the disease known as rapid ‘ōhi‘a death, which was decimating healthy plants, like the one shown right, across Hawai‘i Island.

Despite the seriousness of the issue, Keith and her army of postdocs also seem to be having one hell of a time. The atmosphere in the lab is light and collegial. Keith herself is lively, not what you’d expect of your typical scientist. Her loud laugh is so full of mirth that it’s contagious—you can watch it spread, from Keith to her assistants, like one of her studied diseases hopping from tree to tree. During my visit, she discusses the need to swap out her photo on the rapid ‘ōhi‘a death website. It’s just too happy. “The picture is of death and destruction, and I’m pointing at it with a big smile and my coffee,” she says. “We have the two foresters looking awesome, and then there I am: ‘Dying seedlings!’” She mimes a touristy pose and flashes a big, toothy grin.

The positivity is, no doubt, simply a part of Keith’s personality, but a small portion of it also stems from what she describes as the thrill of the chase. “That can sound really demented,” she admits, “[because] it is devastating. But at the same time, applying all your knowledge and experience to help solve a major problem is exciting.” She compares

the process to—what else?— Scooby-Doo “We’re ripping the mask off a new invasive pathogen,” she says, “and maybe they would have gotten away with something far worse if we hadn’t solved the mystery.”

In the case of rapid ‘ōhi‘a death, however, the episode is far from over. This particular villain is still at large, which is why Keith and colleagues are working harder than ever. For someone used to toiling away behind the scenes, it has been disorienting to walk into her local KTA grocery store and see her name on posters warning residents not to transport ‘ōhi‘a wood. J.B. Friday, who, as an extension forester with the University of Hawai‘i received the first reports of dying ‘ōhi‘a, says the disease has meant a lot more nights and weekends, taking tree samples, and coordinating outreach. The work is nonstop.

Keith takes it in stride. After all, this isn’t television. “It’s not a happy, feel-good project,” she admits. “In plant pathology, it’s doom and gloom you’re working with, so you shouldn’t feel bad high-fiving when you do start answering questions.”

 “Applying all your knowledge and experience to help solve a major problem is exciting,” says Keith, who compares plant pathology to Scooby-Doo. “We’re ripping the mask off a new invasive pathogen.”

What Lies Beneath

Twenty years after the completion of Interstate H-3, a book by Kapulani Landgraf and Mark Hamasaki recollects the cost.

TEXT BY SONNY GANADEN

IMAGES COURTESY OF PILIAMO‘O

It was the early 1960s, the height of the Cold War, only a few years after Hawai‘i was declared a state, when the John A. Burns Freeway was envisioned. Otherwise known as Interstate H-3, the freeway was conceived as a federal project to facilitate the expansion of American military in the Pacific, championed by the new state’s powerful and revered WWII veteran, Senator Daniel Inouye. According to its proponents, the H-3 was necessary to alleviate traffic, and to connect Pearl Harbor military bases at the southern center of the island to the Kāne‘ohe Marine Corps Base on the east side of the island, should a third world war require an expedited movement of troops and equipment.

Interstate H-3 (something of a misnomer—highways on islands are inherently intrastate) was, prior to the ongoing Honolulu rail transit project, the largest public works project in the history of the archipelago. “We thought that was going to be the last major earthwork project on O‘ahu, that this was the time to document what was happening,” says Kapulani Landgraf, who was a student at Windward Community College at the time of the H-3’s creation. In 1989, she began hiking to the construction area from the windward side to take pictures with a large-format camera. “We had no way of stopping it,” she says. “It felt like nobody did.” Soon, she discovered that her photography instructor, Mark Hamasaki, was also documenting the developments. Together, student and teacher lugged tripods and camera equipment through mud and construction sites to photograph the massive project. In 2016, the duo published Ē Luku Wale Ē: Devastation Upon Devastation , a book that contains 125 of their photographs. “Luku wale” translates as “vandalism, useless slaughter or destruction, to destroy thus.”

Unlike the road-building programs in New York City during the same era, this interstate project was successfully opposed in court. In 1970, President Nixon signed into law the National Environmental Policy Act, which enjoined the federal government to create lengthy environmental impact statements regarding the highway, effectively stopping construction. For years, Native Hawaiian and environmental groups used the statements to delay the construction of the highway by challenging environmental violations. As activists won in the courts, rich landowners also fought its development the old-fashioned way: The Damon family, who had inherited most of the land in Moanalua Valley, through which the H-3 was originally to be routed, lobbied the Nixon administration aggressively. Because of this, the H-3 instead cut through neighboring Hālawa Valley.

For decades, activists, academics, environmentalists, landowners, and residents of O‘ahu fought the H-3’s construction. Few residents thought it wise, as there were routes already in place from the east side of the island to central Honolulu in the south; it would also level portions of O‘ahu’s remaining forests, where endangered native birds sang. And for a



“We thought that was going to be the last major earthwork project on O‘ahu,” says Kapulani Landgraf, who, along with Mark Hamasaki, documented the construction of Interstate H-3.

SEPTEMBER 9, 1990, HA‘IKŪ

OCTOBER 7, 1990, HA‘IKŪ

time, it appeared the highway would be scrapped. Then, in 1986, Senator Inouye maneuvered an unprecedented federal exemption that allowed construction of the H-3 to skirt environmental laws as a rider on the Department of Defense budget. The monolithic highway would cut through Hālawa Valley, the Ko‘olau Range, and Ha‘ikū Valley on the opposite side before winding its way down into Kāne‘ohe. In 1989, crews began blasting through the Ko‘olau mountains. Over the course of eight years, Piliamoʻo documented scenes following construction across portions of the H-3’s route.

“Our main entry point was Haiku Access Road, and we got access by talking with the construction workers,” Landgraf says. As a team, Hamasaki and Landgraf took the moniker Piliamo‘o, loosely translated as “clinging lizard.” Their images were taken

on Sundays, when the workers had gone home, leaving a desolate, destructive scene behind. In one series, a hole in the side of a mountain dilates to create a massive, multilane expanse.

Piliamo‘o photographed the demolition of a complex, terraced, irrigation farming system once used to produce sweet potato and a variety of other staples of the Polynesian diet. (Historians say these centuries-old wetland terraces were the largest and oldest on O‘ahu, and had been abandoned during the massive depopulation that occurred due to disease from first contact with outsiders.) The duo captured images of Hālawa Valley when it was still an intact native forest where endemic birds flitted among koa and ‘ōhi‘a trees.

Piliamo‘o also documented heiau (temples) and funerary mounds, some of which were obliterated by construction. (The location of

 Over the course of eight years, Landgraf and Hamasaki photographed the demolition of cultural sites like heiau and a terraced irrigation system once used to produce sweet potato.

the sites that were not destroyed remain undisclosed in the book.) Obscured by the forest for centuries, banana farmers had known of these structures for decades and often intentionally avoided cultivating near them for fear of being cursed. Inouye charged Bishop Museum with performing the historical and archaeological research for the H-3. To Landgraf, the federally funded research created a conflict of interest. The museum’s preliminary archaeological assessment in 1970 stated that “no archaeological sites exist in the proposed highway corridor that should be saved,” effectively greenlighting the project.

This year, 2017, marks the 20th anniversary of the dedication of the H-3. At a cost of $80 million per mile—totaling $1.3 billion—the project remains one of the world’s most expensive highways ever built. Landgraf’s and Hamasaki’s images remind of the potential toll of public works projects. Ē Luku Wale Ē takes the form of a kanikau, a Hawaiian funerary chant, which was ubiquitous in Hawaiian language newspapers at the end of the 19th century. Each section is written in untranslated Hawaiian, an act of linguistic resistance.

Since the building of the H-3, the O‘ahu ‘alauahio, an endangered, endemic honeycreeper, last documented in Hālawa Valley in 1985, has been presumed extinct. The forest under the H-3’s route is now overrun by albizia, an invasive tree species. While O‘ahu traffic grows worse, the city contends with a ballooning rail transit system that is predicted to go at least $5 billion over budget and a decade over its initial timeline, echoing the problems of the H-3. The freeway remains a shadowy monument where the occasional motorist zooms through sun-soaked ridge lines and opulent valleys. “People drive on it and think it’s beautiful, but really, what is underneath?” Landgraf wonders aloud. “This is what I’ve been learning: This is the erasure of history. When people see a structure, they assume that it has been there forever, with no concept of what existed before.”

 On the 20th anniversary of the dedication of the H-3, Landgraf’s and Hamasaki’s photographs, published in Ē Luku Wale Ē , remind of the potential ecological toll such projects can take.

 Ē Luku Wale Ē is available for purchase at Nā Mea Hawai‘i or through the Hawai‘i Council for the Humanities.

APRIL 12, 1992, PUNALU‘U

MAUKA

FLUX PHILES | CULTURE |

The Healing Gardener

Lā‘au lapa‘au practitioner Leinā‘ala Bright lovingly sows seeds of healing.

TEXT BY JADE SNOW

IMAGE BY JOHN HOOK

In the home garden of Leinā‘ala Bright are more than 30 varieties of what she calls her mo‘opuna, or grandchildren. Red conical heads of ginger bob among a hedge of green; nodules of ruddy turmeric roots await harvest. “They’re like my family,” Bright says of the mea kanu, or plants.

A practitioner of Hawaiian herbal medicine, known as lāʻau lapaʻau, Bright utilizes each of the plants in her garden as her kūpuna once did by planting and harvesting according to the kaulana mahina, or Hawaiian moon calendar, to make poultices, herbal oils, salves, tinctures, and teas.

Bright began her journey as a healer 26 years ago. Her mother, a nurse, used various homeopathic remedies to heal her family at home. Many of her relatives were skilled lomilomi practitioners, and she obtained a massage license in her early 30s. But after 10 years of healing others through massage, she felt a desire to heal herself through education by deepening her knowledge of culture and the connections between land and health. Bright earned a master’s degree in Hawaiian Studies from Kamakakūokalani Center for Hawaiian Studies at University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, where she studied under master lāʻau lapaʻau practitioner Levon Ohai, who passed away in 2012. She also conducted aquaponics research at the university’s College of Tropical Agriculture and Human Resources.

Working with the land, Bright discovered how to propagate both the endemic and non-native plants she used in her research studies, such as māmaki, pōpolo berry, and her personal favorite, ‘ōlena (Hawaiian turmeric). “‘Ōlena is so strong for the immune system,” says Bright, who was able to coax high yields of curcumin, the active ingredient that gives turmeric its anti-inflammatory and anti-cancer properties. “Even in the medical world, they are dosing it for cancer,” she explains. “I’m currently working with a few patients in my personal practice with cancer, so I have them on an antiinflammatory diet while taking ‘ōlena.”

In 2009, Bright partnered with David McGuire to establish NaloPonics, a company that creates home aquaponics systems, where kalo, leafy greens, and healing plants such as ‘ōlena,

māmaki, and chili pepper can thrive. Incorporating the “food as medicine” movement into her practice, Bright hopes to teach others how to cook with these important plants as well. The healing properties of herbs are maximized through traditional methods of extraction, such as drying, juicing, or boiling. “Our tūtū had medicine gardens—they called them weed gardens,” she says with a laugh. “My job now is to reawaken those memories and practices so that they continue.”

Bright infuses those traditions with modern medicine as the cultural health prevention specialist at Waimānalo Health Center, where she began working in 2015. Practitioners before her have utilized lomilomi massage for healing in the healthcare industry, but to her knowledge, Bright is the first lāʻau lapaʻau practitioner fully integrated into primary care at Waimānalo Health Center. She offers holistic healthcare alternatives in the forms of lāʻau lapaʻau and lomilomi, treating patients with chronic pain and illnesses, such as diabetes, cardiovascular problems, and even cancer.

“Waimānalo [Health Center] is perfect because I’m given the opportunity to heal, but also to teach,” she says. “I make teas, salves, bring plants in, and send them home with patients to nurture and heal themselves.”

While she brings lāʻau to patients at the clinic on an asneeded basis, she also sees patients at home in Waimānalo several evenings a week, where she calls on the backyard pharmacy she has cultivated with her own two hands. These plants have become as much a part of her as they are a part of her practice. In tapping into the traditions of her kūpuna, while understanding the connection to land and spirit, Bright heals from seed to soul. “It’s not only the ingesting of that lāʻau,” she says, “but about raising that lāʻau so that it becomes a part of your family.”

 Leinā‘ala Bright utilizes the plants grown in her garden, such as the ‘ōlena pictured here, to make poultices, herbal oils, salves, tinctures, and teas in a practice called lā‘au lapa‘au.

How I Love Thee

Three letters of love give thanks to the life-giving, life-changing force of botanical bounties.

IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK & IJFKE RIDGLEY

 E ULU E, E ULU KINI, O KE AKUA !

Many people are struck by the energy and personal grounding of my son, Kuha‘o. He is the creative director of my namesake, Sig Zane Designs. He is also son of my beloved wife, kumu hula Nalani Kanaka‘ole. You know her. You know him. And you know that the creations that emerge from our design house, though lauded for the use of clean lines and passive space, also celebrate the vibrancy of our Hawaiian culture, and especially, our native plants. Kuha‘o is right when he says there’s a story behind each one of our pieces, a deeper cultural symbolism in the art we create. (And yes, I still painstakingly hand-cut each design from Rubylith.) He understands the link between our art and our Hawaiian heritage, how vital that link is to knowing our family both professionally and personally. Our cultural compass is rooted in this spiritual connection to the ‘āina. Kuha‘o speaks with conviction of the rawest kind on this. Steady and pure, our cultural compass guides our ideas for the future, and defines our connection to the past. The Greeks held an idea of telos , a concept that describes how we are all destined to be our greatest selves, as an acorn will strive to be a mighty oak. Perhaps more fitting for us, for Hawai‘i, is an ‘ōhi‘a tree.

You, ‘ōhi‘a, are Hawai‘i. You appear in myriad forms: a single shrub dotting a barren volcanic landscape, a cloister of dense thickets in the midlands, or, in the cooler upper elevations, stands of trees—regal and tall. From times ancient, the sacred spirit in your tree has fortified our medicine and tools. Stretching further still reveals your significance upon a land, a people, and a culture: Your tree is a Hawaiian god form, your wood selected as the physical essence of carved ki‘i found in the sacred site of Pu‘uhonua O Hōnaunau, City of Refuge on Hawai‘i Island. You are associated with the volcano goddess Pele because of your fiery explosion of red-hued lehua blossoms.

Simultaneously, you are a brilliant emissary of hope, one of the first plants to break through the black, brittle mantle of desolate lava fields. As your saplings grow into forests and stretch skyward, you usher in the rain, giving opportunity for additional plants to seed and bring vibrant life to what was once barren. I introduced you to a traveling companion recently. As we journeyed along Saddle Road, I explained that your name means “to gather” or “attract.” Though the air was chilly and a white sky hung wet and low with misty rain, our mood was bright and infectious. I was keeping an eye out for liko, your young, tender flower buds. My new friend had joined Kuha‘o and me on this drive to learn more about you and our kinship to the plants that influence our designs, and our lives. As we rode through the rain, I told her that the creative process is borne from something much deeper. You know this story; it’s one of the many favorites that we have shared. How, upon leaving the urban city of Honolulu for sleepy Hilo in the ’70s, I felt a pronounced shift in myself, a spiritual homecoming of sorts. How I felt it in the land and the ocean where I fished. How I felt it in the hula hālau where I danced. How I felt it while falling in love with Nalani, and especially through the guidance of her mother, Edith Kanaka‘ole, who witnessed my full immersion in Hawaiian culture. You watched as I opened myself to what I knew I was meant to embrace ... and then you saw as native plants inspired my designs. Those designs are my offerings, my beautiful recursive tributes to plants like you. The designs sing of our inherent connections to you. Like you, we are from the earth and going back to the earth. And so we are brothers and sisters. My travel companion asked me to name a few of my favorite plants. Of course, I rattled on about the ‘ulu fruit’s hexagonal rind pattern and its symbolism of growth and inspiration. I described how koa, though often referenced for its strength through images of canoes or bowls, is reimagined in my mind as the father of the forest. Look at the tall

The designs sing of our inherent connections to you. Like you, we are from the earth and going back to the earth. And so we are brothers and sisters.

 When Sig Zane picks blossoms from ‘ōhi‘a trees on Hawai‘i Island, he always asks permission first in the form of an oli.

ridgeline, I said. Examine the sickle shape of the koa’s leaves. That sickle shape helps bring moisture down to nourish the rest of the forest. The koa is helping to take care of others.

I also explained that there are plants I am wary of using in designs: for one, the milo tree, since it represents the entryway into the underworld; another, the puhale tree’s lauhala leaves, which carry such somber, augural tones—hala means “to fall” or “fail”—not good for businesses. When asked to recall an early design, I paused: a white ginger blossom. I had made it to woo Nalani, remember? “Did it work?” my companion asked. I laughed and laughed. Then she broke into laughter, too.

Somewhere along mile 20 marker, we pulled over. The temperature had dropped further, and a silvery mist blurred the delineation between land and sky. In the vast expanse, we were simultaneously alone and not alone.

Kuha‘o and I picked our way among the scree of lava rocks to stand before a tree. Had we selected you? Or had you selected us, a father and son? Your boughs, shaped by wind and sun, were blotched with light green lichen. The moving mist had dampened your bark and bestowed upon each of your delicate

liko a spheroidal crown of tiny water droplets. Liko like these are my favorite. I always tell you that.

As we began to chant our oli—protocol in asking for your blessing before picking your blossoms, though we arenʼt gathering now due to the threat of rapid ‘ōhi‘a death—time itself halted as if to bear witness. The heavens lowered, and the land reached up in mutual greeting. Something larger, something ephemeral, solemn, and euphoric, was taking place: a wondrous reaffirmation of the spiritual and cultural connection between man and nature. We stood before you in grace. She got chicken skin, my companion confessed once we returned to the car. She said that it felt like you had moved in response to our words, your flowers and branches nodding and murmuring in communion. Could it have been the wind? I chuckled, as I know you would. “Maybe, yes, the wind.” As we drove away, I watched you recede from view, disappearing into the white mist and striving toward the sky, taller and larger than before.

Ulu ka ‘ōhi‘a a lau ka wai!

Sig Zane hilo, hawai‘i island

Adapted by Rae Sojot

TO MY DEAREST SEEDLINGS,

We breathe together. We drink from the same spell of rain. I’ve worked hard, spent hot hours with your stems scratching at my skin, at times drawing blood. But I don’t know that we’ve ever much talked.

Absurdly, I must have uttered niceties at you from time to time. “Wonderful,” “brilliant,” or some accolade just as trite surely passed my lips upon tearing your sweetest lettuce leaf apart with my teeth. Soul food needn’t be dressed in barbecue dips and grease, of this I am certain. No, the soul is fed by what is pure and simple. An uncomplicated song. Mangoes readying to drop from the tree. This teaching I learned from you, and also Bob Dylan.

For example, the hairless, perfectly proportioned carrots packaged in plastic are mere snacks. They are more healthful than a bag of Cheetos, certainly, but aren’t they just as artificial? Real nourishment comes from the wriggly carrot with dirt-clogged dents and creases. How peculiar to think that food, or life, should be so cookie-cutter and contrived as baby-cut carrots.

Speaking of babies, I don’t think it’s unsound to reason that I am like your father. In 27 years and on 11 small-scale farms, I brought you to life when I sowed your seeds, imbuing your birth with gentleness and the anticipation of all you might become. Then, with each new sprout, I prodded you to grow. I shielded you from hungry beaks. I nurtured you with my hands and my heart—never pesticides or diesel-powered tools. When you thrived, so did I. How I love the reciprocity of this kinship.

But in the case of us, plants, I am surely no father figure. Rather, you are the teacher. You are my life force. And I, your grateful student, would like to say “thank you.” Thank you for helping me to cultivate a supernatural sense of calm and purpose. Thank you for sustaining my life, my agile mind, and these tireless, willowy limbs—the fruits of garden yoga.

It’s funny to think that there are men and women who steer and push buttons, and we call them farmers. Preoccupied with technology, they lack reverence for your gifts that allow you to sustain life or unfurl a new leaf. If you are planting crops by puncturing

holes in the earth with a drill, you have lost your connection with nature. Gag me with a tractor!

I am a farmer of rare breed: the kind who works exclusively with his hands. How odd, in this age of technology worship. Yet these two old-fashioned hands have grown immense treasures immune to the fickle swings of fashion. Everyone needs to eat.

Still, people are shocked: My closedloop farming systems are completely selfsufficient—no fertilizer imports, no foreigngrown seeds, no reliance on cargo ships. But shouldn’t this way of farming be the rule rather than the exception? The moment we bring diesel-drinking machinery into farming is the moment we ruin it.

It’s not just about growing food, you see. It’s about involving people in growing food. It’s about equality and accessibility. Simplicity. I’m not just a farmer, I’m a concerned citizen. If you eat, you are a concerned citizen, too. Farming is about community. Nobody gets left out.

Of course, many do. Our challenge lies in this great undoing.

If I could have one wish, it would be to have a legacy. And that legacy would take the shape of an eco-conscious farming community. A little turf for you, plants, and for us salt-of-the-earth farmers. A world in which food cultivation is the abundant source of income, sustenance, pride, and discipline. What a joyous life that would be. A life sustained by perfectly tart lychee and peppery arugula and water collected from the sky. I won’t give up on this big little dream of mine.

Of course, it wouldn’t be wholly idyllic. Farming is patience. Centipedes. Mud. Screaming quiet. But wouldn’t it be better than the loneliness born of digital hyperconnectivity?

People say to me that they have always wanted to get back to the earth. It begs the question: When did they leave?

With optimism and great love, George “Sun” Hadley kapa‘a, kaua‘i

Adapted by Brittany

Lyte

But in the case of us, plants, I am surely no father figure. Rather, you are the teacher. You are my life force. And I, your grateful student, would like to say “thank you.”



Farmer George “Sun” Hadley works only with his hands when cultivating seedlings from the earth and nurturing crops.

 TO ALL THAT BLOOM,

Each Monday morning, our inner design room transforms into a veritable feast of sight and scent. Flowers of all kind arrive en masse. Pastel-hued hydrangeas mingle with pinktinged gladioli; regal orchids take company alongside Queen Anne’s lace. Tropical flowers announce themselves in bright bursts— heliconia and protea, ginger and anthurium. As a heady concoction of roses, carnations, and jasmine swells within the tidy workspace, our team skillfully sorts, trims, and prepares the blooms for their floral debut. Welcome, flowers. Welcome.

As a fourth-generation florist, I am proud to continue my family’s floral legacy. In 1937, when my great-grandparents first opened their tiny storefront along Beretania Street, the thoroughfare was already a bustling merchant corridor lined with flower vendors. My great-grandparents’ emphasis on quality and their fastidious attention to detail helped shape their company’s success: All flowers had to be of the utmost freshness, and if a floral arrangement was requested, the subtleties were paramount—the vase must be free of smudges, the water pristine, and the blossoms impeccably arranged. Such meticulous care ensured that business flourished. Over the next 80 years, our company, Beretania Florist, branched out, with satellite locations downtown, in the Royal Hawaiian Center, and at Hale Koa Hotel. Today, our family business operates from its original site at 1293 Beretania St., though our tiny storefront has since expanded to include a design room, six commercial walk-in refrigeration units, and even a small greenhouse.

If viewing our company (and our industry at large) from a perfunctory standpoint, it’s easy to define you, flowers, as mere commodities purchased during business transactions. But I am a florist. I am surrounded by you every day. I understand your deeper, eternal draw.

Similar to art and music, you possess the powerful means to trigger thoughts and elicit feelings. I observe this phenomenon regularly at the shop: A customer casually peruses the showroom only to stop in their tracks at the scent or sight of you, swept into a potent reverie of memories. You have

the ability to remind them of a loved one, a particular period of their life, a dream once held. I tell others that flowers are important because of our emotional attachment to them. Though long used as visual markers of life’s significant milestones—birth, death, graduation, marriage—it’s to the vast depth of the human condition that you best lend yourself: jubilance, pride, sorrow, passion, gratitude, hope. Your blossoms’ explicit beauty is heightened by the implicit meaning imbued within it.

Equally profound, you serve as a bridge between emotions and people when language falls short. You offer yourself as a metaphor for words that want to be said, cannot be said, or have already been pronounced. Helping customers navigate these emotional landscapes is a crucial service I’ve learned to provide—whether in selecting a final tribute for the loss of a loved one (the most difficult part of my job), suggesting flowers as an overture to mend hurt feelings (a simple gesture makes all the difference), or creating vibrant displays to celebrate new business ventures (one of my favorite things to do), you have taught me the inherent responsibility of conveying what is wont to be said.

The keystone of the floral tradition is emotional connection; flowers are at the heart of it. When I flip through the stack of dusty photo albums in the design room, I see that even though the photos have faded, a flower’s beauty rings eternal through the meaning it imparts.

Knowing this, our business is not just a business. It is an art, and perhaps even a gift in its ability to grant brief, intimate glimpses into my customers’ lives and the emotions that steered them my way.

Welcome, I say to my customers, welcome. To them, I lend an ear, then a guiding hand, and finally, I offer you, a perfect flower. Thank you.

In beauty, scent, and sentiment,

Reece Farinas honolulu, o‘ahu

Adapted by Rae Sojot

The keystone of the floral tradition is emotional connection; flowers are at the heart of it.

 Blooms arranged by Reece Farinas, a fourthgeneration florist at Beretania Florist, serve as visual markers for all of life’s significant milestones.

FLUX FEATURE

Before the Forest, Dreams

For better or worse, men have planted experimental forests in Hawai‘i for more than a century. Today, groves, trails, and honors bear their names, but a walk in the woods reminds us that even giants started small.

TEXT BY TRAVIS HANCOCK

BY BRYCE JOHNSON & JOHN HOOK

IMAGES

In January 2015, a pair of nēnē geese waddled across the grassy camping area at Hosmer Grove in Haleakalā National Park to nest among pine and eucalyptus trees planted by Ralph Hosmer, who served as territorial Hawai‘i’s first forester-in-chief in 1909. It’s safe to assume the grove wasn’t the pair’s ideal choice for hatching their egg. But since their preferred habitat among native vegetation like pūkiawe, ‘a‘ali‘i, and ‘ōhi‘a lehua has shrunk, and the domain of Hosmer Grove’s more aggressive invasive trees has spread, the geese have had to adapt.

As the world’s rarest goose, with only 2,500 of the species in existence, the nesting nēnē prompted park officials to close the campground until the newly hatched gosling was strong enough to endure relocation to a different area of the park. Sadly, it didn’t get that chance, dying of emaciation after only four days. While Hawai‘i’s park rangers work hard to maintain forests and remove predators like mongooses and rats, nativehabitat loss has been rampant through the past century.

Ironically, many of the most prevalent invasive forest trees in Hawai‘i were tested for viability at Hosmer Grove in the name of conservation. Hosmer planted 86 species in his experimental grove, including many non-natives like spruce, Mexican weeping pine, and bluegum eucalyptus. In December 1911, following an assessment of his trials by the U.S. Forest Service, Hosmer presented his results to the members of the Hawaiian Sugar Planters’ Association, whom he charged with degrading forest lands and watersheds. Appealing to the organization’s capitalist sensibilities, Hosmer emphasized the financial wisdom in “what has come to be termed the conservation program—the right use of lands, waters and forests.”

Hosmer declared, “By turning this money that comes from the forest back into the forest, the foundations can be laid for a self-supporting, revenue-producing forest system that in time will be one of the most important assets of the Territory. … For windbreaks near the sea, ironwood has shown itself the tree to be used. For quick returns in fuel and wood production, one of the eucalyptus is usually the species to be recommended. … Locally there is at the present time no way in which conservation can be practiced better than through forest work. My final word is that for the sugar companies this means protecting the native forests and planting trees.”

Throughout his address, which the Hawaiian Star newspaper reprinted, Hosmer suggested that these forests could and should consist of the foreign trees that proved viable in his grove on Haleakalā. Thus, his “conservation program” prioritized the water and timber supply and the sugar industry, disregarding actual native plants and wildlife, not to mention the people and cultural practices dependent upon them.

In light of the oligarchic dominion that ironwood and eucalyptus trees now hold on many island ridgelines, one has to see the Harvard- and Yale-educated Hosmer as misguided, if not reckless. Today, the U.S. Forest Service reports that most of the dense bluegum eucalyptus stands in Hawai‘i are nearly devoid of understory vegetation, due to the trees’ production of water-soluble phytotoxins that prevent the growth of many

 In 1911, George Campbell Munro set out on a mission to rehydrate the parched island of Lāna‘i using Araucaria columnaris, or Cook pines, the towering presences of which have come to define the landscape of the island.

herbaceous plants—the kinds ground-dwelling birds use for cover. Ironwood is similarly allelopathic, or chemically harmful to other species.

But the sugar barons, plantation managers, and thousands of workers whose livelihoods benefitted from a restored watershed certainly did not see Hosmer as a villain. Even today, some conservationists laud his successful protection of 800,000 acres for forest reserves, which spared the areas from urban and residential development.

By what metric do we judge the experiments of those who have assumed control of island spaces ravaged by foreign industries—from sugar and pineapple, to livestock, to tourism and development? In spite, or perhaps because of, the role the West played in unbalancing Hawaiian ecosystems, many white settlers have taken stabs at paving more ecologically and economically sustainable paths forward.

In 1911, the same year that Hosmer advocated planting eucalyptus, ornithologist turned ranch manager George Munro dreamed up a pine-planting scheme on the island of Lāna‘i that reduced erosion and replenished aquifers, to the benefit of its residents, and eventually, Dole’s pineapple

kingdom. Today, on Hawai‘i Island, entrepreneurs Jeff Dunster and Darrell Fox are transforming Kūka‘iau Ranch, where the largest grove of Hosmer-era bluegum eucalyptus still stands, into a forest of native trees for timber, carbondioxide offsetting, and the re-creation of a forest of the past. Although it can be difficult to say who benefits from such projects in the end, as the planet warms and oceans rise, it feels more important than ever to raise the question.

On a visit to Lāna‘i City in 2011, I witnessed a few women casually combing the grass in Dole Park at the town’s center. Every couple of feet, they stooped to pick up needled, cord-like branchlets that had fallen from tall pine trees surrounding the entire park like peristyle columns holding up the big, quiet sky. Watching this simple act of urban grooming, I couldn’t help thinking that these women were fulfilling some kind of duty, picking up after trees in the community’s collective front yard that have been grandfathered into a new generation’s care.

The trees are Araucaria columnaris, or Cook pines. The genesis of their towering presence in Lāna‘i—at Dole Park and along the island’s mountain ridges and roads—dates back to 1911. This was the year a humble yet daring, floppyhat-wearing ornithologist from New Zealand named George Campbell Munro arrived on the island.

Munro had developed ranch management skills on Kaua‘i and Moloka‘i before the Lanai Company, desperately in need of fresh eyes on the scene, offered him the role of ranch manager. Lāna‘i’s landscape had been ravaged by schemes of previous owners, going back to Mormon demagogue Walter Murray Gibson, who consolidated the island’s ahupua‘a (native land tracts) in the 1860s before launching the first of many clear-cutting and ranching programs. During the 19th century, the island’s ownership changed four times, spurred by financial difficulties caused largely by water scarcity, a natural problem that ranching only exacerbated. By the time Munro set foot on Lāna‘i, feral goats and sheep had razed the highland vegetation that had filtered, stored, and guided the flow of precipitation, while thirsty cattle (and island residents) were guzzling the already scant groundwater supply faster than it could be replenished.

Witnessing this, Munro embarked upon a mission to hydrate the parched island. Shortly after his arrival, according to his highly autobiographical natural history book, The Story of Lāna‘i , Munro heard “drops falling on the iron roof” of his new home at Kō‘ele, which stood beneath

 One of the last old-growth trees that survived the clear-cutting of Kūka‘iau Ranch for cattle in the 1880s, the “Lone Koa” is now a stop along tours of the Hawaiian Legacy Forest.

a 125-foot-tall Norfolk pine—a gift King Kalākaua had given to Walter Gibson three decades earlier. Like Isaac Newton’s fabled apple, the falling drops sent Munro down a path of experimentation. He realized that the morning and evening fog collected along the Norfolk pines’ fine-toothed needles, dripped down onto his roof, and then fell to the ground.

Based solely on his observations of the lone Norfolk at Kō‘ele, he decided to try planting Norfolk pines throughout Lāna‘i. “If it did grow,” he wrote, “it would surely intercept moisture for our groundwater supply.”

As it turned out, when Munro asked forestry officials for Norfolk pine seeds, they unknowingly sent Cook pine seeds. Unlike the Norfolk pines, which have a triangular, Christmas tree-profile, Cook pines taper at the top and bottom, making a rocket-like shape. Working with cowboys and ranch hands, Munro raised the seedlings in a nursery until they were 3 feet high, then used mules to carry them into the hills. “A line of mules packing trees along an open trail looked like a moving forest,” he wrote. “These trees were planted right over the mountaintop and on several ridges running from where it was obvious that their fog drip would be likely to add to the ground water supply.” The main trail they used was later named the Munro Trail, for the bold pragmatist who transformed its dusty surface into mud.

This planting program of several hundred trees gave Lāna‘i’s ridgelines their now-trademark pine colonnades. Like Moses drawing water from a rock, Munro’s Promethean experiment gave succor to the struggling agricultural community, as each growing tree replenished the island’s aquifer, drop by drop. When James Dole’s Hawaiian Pineapple Company took over control of most of the island in 1922, it kept Munro on as ranch manager. With a growing reservoir of groundwater to draw from, the company imported labor and developed the island into the pineapple powerhouse of the Pacific.

When Munro’s successes are recounted, he takes on a sheen of mythic heroism. But given a closer look, his valorous achievement is revealed as the lucky outcome of a botanical gamble. His own quoted account of the project is peppered with speculative words, including if , surely , would , and likely

In this account, he also told of how, before planting the pines, he called upon a New Zealand friend, one Reverend H. Mason, who was reputed for divining water for farmers. Arriving on the island, Mason attempted to use a forked guava stick to locate wells. It didn’t work, but Munro nevertheless defended Mason’s pseudoscientific method against “unbelievers.” Apparently, Munro didn’t require hard science. He even went into the tree-planting plan wondering, “Would it succeed in the wet forest on Lāna‘i where there is often a hardpan not far from the surface?” Lacking conclusive science, Munro forged ahead on hope.

Munro’s frankly uninformed optimism is striking when one considers how drastically the Cook pines affected the appearance of Lāna‘i, as well as the lives of its future communities—human, avian, and vegetal. Some native species may have benefitted, but so too did the industries and their laborers, whose daily doings had eroded the land and balance

 Scan of a hand-tinted photo of George Campbell Munro taken while he was traveling in the 1930s. The lei around his hat is made of kauna‘oa, an endemic plant, and is noted as the lei of Lāna‘i. Courtesy of the Lāna‘i Culture and Heritage Center.

of life on Lāna‘i to begin with. Before Munro’s breakthrough, Lāna‘i’s perennial drought was part of its identity, a regulating fact of life that limited settlement and encouraged Hawaiian resourcefulness. In mo‘olelo, or stories, it was a place of banishment, hiding, spirits, and Pahulu, god of nightmares. As ranching and water increased, the traditional—and sustainable—mode of subsistence living diminished, and the old stories began to lose their physical anchors.

But Munro was living in the moment. He was relieved to learn in 1955 that the Hawaiian Pineapple Company was validating his gamble through long-term studies, one of which indicated “twice as much precipitation in twelve months under one of the [Cook] Island pine trees, some 25 feet high, as recorded from rainfall alone on an adjacent open area.”

But modern science reveals how poorly they understood the trees’ efficacy, not to mention the stimulus the trees provided to unwanted species. In 2015, Sara Baguskas, an authority on pine tree fog drip, conceded the difficulty of accurately measuring fog drip moisture levels, which requires isotopic separation of fog and rain molecules and close monitoring of soil temperature and evaporation rates.

Munro was a lucky prophet insofar as we limit our assessment to his goal of alleviating a drought. He had mixed results in fulfilling other projects, like native species propagation. While he advocated for foreign plants to be cleared from a native dryland forest at Kānepu‘u, he also believed that cattle ranching “much improved” the quality of the land, so he littered it with invasive trees like kiawe and haole koa for the bovines to eat.

Today, along the Munro Trail, a choke of invasive strawberry guava trees has handily filled in the gaps between evenly spaced Cook pines that now stand well over 100 feet tall. The erosive and thirsty strawberry guava trees lay first claim to the Cook pines’ bounty, greedily siphoning off the fog drip before it enters the aquifer. Fueled by steady moisture, the spindly trees are creeping toward the summit, Lāna‘ihale, where, according to the International Union for Conservation of Nature, their encroachment poses the single greatest threat to Hawai‘i’s second largest colony of ‘ua‘u, or endemic Hawaiian petrels. Making matters worse, Maui Nui Seabird Recovery Project, the group that maintained a clearing at Lāna‘ihale for the burrowing seabirds, was forced to leave when software magnate Larry Ellison bought the island from Castle and Cooke in 2012.

‘Ua‘u were wiped out on Lāna‘i once before—in his 1944 book, Birds of Hawai‘i , Munro blames feral pigs and cats. How long before Munro’s fog-drip dream fuels strawberry guava into the clearing on which the new colony depends? Only Larry Ellison can say. Five years into his reign, Ellison’s management company, Pūlama Lāna‘i, is still promising to carry out an islandwide plan that will include invasive species control. But unlike Munro, who weathered Lāna‘i’s cloud forests and sunbaked plains for two decades—and even less like the Native Hawaiians who lived on Lāna‘i for at least a thousand years—the elusive Ellison, ever away on a yacht or one of his many estates, is rarely around to witness his experiments take root.

Legacy Reforestation Initiative: koa, ‘ōhi‘a lehua, ko‘oko‘olau, and ‘iliahi.

It’s noon on a Wednesday in November. Jeff Dunster, CEO of Hawaiian Legacy Hardwoods, sits cross-legged on the floor of his sprawling, gated mansion in Nu‘uanu Valley, leaning back on locked elbows.

“We’re down to about 10 percent of what we had with koa forests just a century ago,” he says. “I’ve been [in Hawai‘i] a few decades, long enough to see the change, and it’s really not that long as time goes. When you see how quickly [the forest] goes away, you realize that your grandkids may not see any of this, and it’s kind of sobering. I also was part of the problem because I love koa furniture.”

A look around the room confirms this—on the coffee table are koa bowls, koa jewelry boxes, and koa pens. Dunster hops to his feet, goes to a cabinet in the corner, and pulls out a shimmering ‘ukulele banded with deep brown ripples. It is made from woods grown by Dunster’s nonprofit, the Hawaiian

In 2006, Dunster and his business partner, Darrell Fox, bought a 1,200-acre parcel of Hawai‘i Island’s 10,000-acre Kūka‘iau Ranch. Gathering funding from investors who recognized the exponential value of lumber, they began planting koa trees, prized for their rarity and quality of wood, for future harvest. Acting like the canopy formed by towering koa trees, the duo’s investment-driven Hawaiian Legacy Hardwoods business encouraged understory growth, which now includes the nonprofit reforestation initiative and the forprofit companies Hawaiian Legacy Tours and Legacy Carbon. Over the last 10 years, the conglomerate has planted more than 300,000 endemic trees, and it is set to plant 1.5 million more on the ranch and around the state thanks to recent commitments to the Hawaiian Legacy Reforestation Initiative by Four Seasons Hualālai and the Hawai‘i Convention Center. These companies and others, like Kona Brewing Company and ALTRES, are drawn to the opportunity to support a green cause through tax-deductible donations. Other

 Above: Jeff Dunster, CEO of Hawaiian Legacy Hardwoods and president of Hawaiian Legacy Reforestation Initiative. Right: The writer plants a koa seedling as part of Hawaiian Legacy’s tree-planting tour.

companies looking to offset their carbon output, such as Paradise Helicopters, buy carbon credits through Legacy Carbon, which supports the koa forests that naturally, and quantifiably, sequester carbon dioxide through photosynthesis.

About 75 percent of Hawaiian Legacy’s property is now dedicated to reforestation, which manifests in “legacy forests,” plots of trees sponsored by individuals, groups, or companies, and is maintained by the Hawaiian Legacy team. If a “legacy tree” dies prematurely, its wood is donated to local artisans like luthier Joseph Souza, who made Dunster’s ‘ukulele.

“It’s not for sale at any price. However, if you plant a thousand trees,” Dunster says, referring to trees purchased as a special Family Forest package, “we’ll give the ‘ukulele to you for free. Three have gone already— that’s 3,000 more trees that are going up on that mountain.”

Dunster points into the ‘ukulele’s soundhole to a computer chip that traces the instrument back to one of its original sources, a koa tree that was planted with a radio-frequency identification tag alongside it that recorded its location, conditions at planting, and relationship with other trees. Every tree the company plants is tracked this way.

As cutting edge as the project is, the original foray into the woods began as a retirement plan for Dunster and Fox, who worked together in finance, doing mergers and acquisitions and ecologically focused consulting, for 30 years. Dunster says starting a forest was “probably as far away from what we were doing as you could possibly get, because it’s all about working with your hands and your back and a sharp shovel.” For a couple of earth-friendly finance guys, their business had to be ecologically and economically sustainable—something that had also motivated Munro on Lāna‘i. “We realized that the model that has been used for a hundred and some odd years doesn’t work anymore,” says Dunster, referring to the Western method of timber forest management. “So we set out to try and design a way to put back the forests and have them financially support themselves and those that are working in the forest.”

Dunster and Fox have received help working in the forest, too, from dedicated employees, schools and youth groups, a growing number of tourists who take tree-planting tours, and writers like me eager to tell Hawaiian Legacy’s story. A few days before meeting Dunster, photographer Bryce Johnson and I visited Hawaiian Legacy’s headquarters, located behind a dense curtain of bluegum eucalyptus in a small repurposed ranch house in ‘Umikoa Village, about an hour north of Hilo.

When we arrived, a lone ‘io, or Hawaiian hawk, was making broad circles in the sky, floating on updrafts as the morning fog burned off. Johnson and I soon learned about the ‘io and other endangered, forest-dependent birds through a video about an ‘ahu ‘ula and mahiole, or feather cloak and helmet—the production of which was sponsored by Hawaiian Legacy Hardwoods. In the video, master featherwork artist Rick San Nicolas was shown weaving more than 250,000 pheasant feathers into intricate netting, replicating pieces that traditionally relied on feathers from the now extinct ʻōʻō and mamo and the endangered ‘i‘iwi and ‘apapane—all forest companions of the ‘io prior to Western contact.

On the planting tour, we zipped through the rolling grid of the burgeoning forest in yellow ATV buggies loaded with koa saplings—a decided improvement upon Munro’s mule-packed forest. As all tours do, we paused at the tall, sparse “Lone Koa,” one of the last old-growth trees that survived the era when Kūka‘iau Ranch was clear-cut in the 1880s for cattle ranching. A hub for wedding photo shoots, the old koa is surrounded by an artfully weed-whacked heart.

Further along, we saw the ‘io alight on a scraggly, skyward limb of a “crawling tree,” a koa that has fallen, put down new roots, and pulled itself across the ground during the last century or so. Maybe the ‘io instinctively prefers the trusty old-growth trees its ancestors hunted among in the days when these lands were King Kamehameha’s personal koa forest—a time of sustainable harvest, when sandalwood thrived in the understory. As our ATVs passed the bird’s perch, it gave a quick glance, then looked on unflinchingly toward its future meal, perhaps knowing that our rumbling wheels would scare up mice from the grass.

The silvicultural dreamers of yesterday and today leave us only two options: destroy the trees left along their trails, or adopt and adapt to the forests they create.

 The technology that accompanies every tree Hawaiian Legacy plants makes its koa forest the most intricately mapped in the world, and each tagged sapling contributes to undoing man’s past follies and neutralizing his present addictions.

Upon arriving at the year’s planting field, we were handed spades to break the black soil and make room for saplings whose topmost leaves had begun transforming from bipinnate into tough, scythe-like phyllodes. Kneeling over his small pit, Johnson planted his tree for his mother, who passed away last year. I planted mine for my fiancée. This information was input into radio-frequency identification tags speared into the ground alongside the trees. With a few handfuls of soil and an anointing by water from a gourd, our names and dedications were suddenly embedded in this earth and in the digital footprints of these trees’ lives.

All tour-goers partake in this ritual. The technology that accompanies every tree the company plants makes this forest the most intricately mapped in the world. Each tagged sapling adds data to Fox and Dunster’s experiment in undoing man’s past follies and neutralizing his present addictions. Nearby, other owners of Kūka‘iau Ranch’s subdivided parcels continue to raise cattle.

“Everybody’s losing money on cattle, which is unfortunate, because I like hamburger,” Dunster says. “[Reforestation] could be an option where these family-owned ranches can still … do ranching. If they take a part of their lands and do forestry, that would cover the shortfall,” he says, his words echoing Hosmer’s exhortation to the sugar planters a century ago. With revenue streams coming from tours, single-tree plantings priced at $60 to $100, timber investments costing about $12,000 for 100 trees, and windfall deals for large-scale carbon-offset plantings, Hawaiian Legacy’s many entities are establishing a model for the future.

Like the crawling koa tree moving to better soil, Hawaiian Legacy is gradually shifting its focus to reforestation and selling carbon credits, which work in tandem. Half-milliontree deals with companies like Four Seasons Hualālai have vaulted Hawaiian Legacy to the forefront of ecotourism. That image is helped by Legacy Carbon, the only carbon-offset company in the United States certified by the Gold Standard, an international agency backed by the World Wildlife Fund. With Paradise Helicopters’ recent purchase of carbon credits from Legacy Carbon, tour-takers can now neutralize their flights’ carbon emissions for a $6 to $8 fee. But the sense of adventure conjured by “ecotourism” dulls a bit at the Four Seasons, where guests simply check a box to add a small charge to their room, which helps the hotel meet its reforestation commitment. As its for-profit carbon credit and tour branches gain popularity and financial success, Hawaiian Legacy helps usher in a pay-as-you-go mentality among industries with bad ecological track records, which now have pathways into the future that require little fundamental change. Carbon offset equals guilt offset.

Dunster and Fox’s programs present a brave new world of economic opportunity in sustainability, and they are racking up awards for their endeavors. But the ‘io doesn’t care about the accolades; it just needs the trees. Fortunately, Dunster and Fox plan to keep on planting them, though it remains to be seen whether their multi-limbed model will ultimately break down old habits, or sprout new ones.

 Right: An endangered ‘io, or Hawaiian hawk, looks out over Kūka‘iau Ranch.

The silvicultural dreamers of yesterday and today leave us only two options: destroy the trees left along their trails, or adopt and adapt to the forests they create. On Maui, the nēnē take their chances in Hosmer Grove. On Hawai‘i Island, the famed Merrie Monarch Festival has sponsored a parcel of Dunster and Fox’s forest-of-the-future, where hula dancers will soon harvest native flora needed for their annual gathering. Perhaps someday featherworkers will once again borrow color from native birds currently hovering at the edge of extinction.

On Lāna‘i, women comb the grass in Dole Park not, as it turns out, for the sake of tidiness. “The ladies actually pick up seeds to sell to seed suppliers who are working on forestry projects in foreign countries,” says Kepā Maly of the Lāna‘i Culture and Heritage Center. For about 50 cents a pound, the residents are effectively fertilizing the dreams of modern Munros around the globe. When I witnessed this practice in 2011, just before Ellison’s acquisition, the island was in an economic slump. The last pineapple harvest was back in 1992, and the hotels supporting local incomes were still climbing out of the Great Recession. The future was uncertain, and in that moment, the people looked once more to the trees.

High Times Are Here

Over the last two centuries, Hawai‘i residents have had a fluctuating relationship with cannabis. In 2000, Hawai‘i was the sixth state to legalize medical marijuana. More than 16 years later, the state will finally allow licensees to purchase weed from slick new dispensaries across the islands.

TEXT BY SONNY GANADEN

IMAGES BY LILA LEE

FLUX FEATURE

It’s like growing tomatoes,” says Dan Lankford, the owner of Ohana Greenhouse and Garden Supply. At a warehouse in Kalihi, where one of his five storefronts are located, Lankford and his staff sell everything a hobbyist might need for maximum tomato yields, from common items like fertilizer and digital thermometers to things more obscure like silica, organic bat guano, and turkey bags.

But Ohana Greenhouse is one of several ancillary businesses that supports an industry in unregulated existence until 2015 in Hawai‘i: marijuana. “It’s said that if you can grow tomatoes, you can grow cannabis,” Lankford says. “In Hawai‘i, you could have great luck even if you never care for the plant, but if you want continual results, you’ll be led to being more careful, planned, and scientific with your growing.”

In 2000, Hawai‘i was the sixth state to legalize medical marijuana, allowing patients to cultivate marijuana plants to treat a number of qualifying ailments, including cancer, epilepsy, glaucoma, and severe and chronic pain. But the statute allowed no way for those with licenses to purchase such medicine; they had to grow their own, no matter how detrimental their health issues or skills as a gardener. In 2015, Hawai‘i resolved this dilemma by passing Act 241, following 25 other states and the District of Columbia in the legalization of medical marijuana dispensaries. In April 2016, after sorting through 66 applications, eight such entities were selected: three on O‘ahu, two on Hawai‘i Island, two on Maui, and one on Kaua‘i, with each entity allowed two locations. These businesses must oversee the entire process of medical marijuana, from cultivation to sale.

“Being a bit late means we can learn from what’s worked and not worked in other places,” says Chris Garth, executive director and chief lobbyist of the Hawaii Dispensary Alliance, a group organized to advocate on behalf of the burgeoning industry. “Of course, one could say this is the same old story, about big business taking over an industry, but we’re saying this is a safe, necessary product for patients, delivered by professionals,” Garth says.

The dispensary industry joins a culture of marijuana cultivation that has been part of local life for decades. Since 2000, the state of Hawai‘i has issued registration cards for the use of medical marijuana. Cardholders are allowed to maintain one grow site with no more than seven marijuana plants, and to possess up to four ounces of marijuana at a time. At the close of 2016, the state had authorized more than 15,000 cards. When dispensaries open their doors beginning in the spring of 2017, these cardholders will be able to purchase from slick new storefronts across the islands.

Drugs have been prevalent in Hawai‘i since humans populated the islands. ‘Awa was brought by the first Polynesians who settled here, and its roots are the source of a traditional narcotic drink known now as kava. Like cannabis, kava, which is classified as a dietary supplement,

 Teri Freitas Gorman is the director of community relations and patient affairs at Maui Grown Therapies, one of Hawai‘i’s eight approved medical marijuana dispensaries, which have been slow to open due to the state’s complex system of regulation.

is a nervous system depressant most often consumed in a social environment. Both are known to reduce anxiety. Proponents of cannabis equate it to a panacea. The plant was most likely introduced by Mexican vaqueros, later called paniolo, or cowboys, who arrived in 1832 to manage the massive Parker Ranch on Hawai‘i Island. It may also have traveled with Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Portuguese, or Filipino workers who built the 19th-century sugar economy. Hawaiian and Pidgin English speakers called the stuff “pakalolo,” which loosely translates to “numbing tobacco.” (“Paka” means tobacco, and “lōlō” means paralyzed, numb, or crazy.)

The history of Hawai‘i loosely follows its governmental drug laws. The puritanical emphasis on drug enforcement was an impetus for the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom when opium—popular with the Chinese laborers—became contentious during the reign of King David Kalākaua. In 1886, Hawai‘i sold licenses for, and thereby gained tax revenue from, the addictive drug. The king allegedly took a bribe from

a Chinese national for a license, and a scandal ensued. In an era when white supremacy was intertwined with Christian morality, haole businessmen led by Lorrin Thurston, a grandson of missionaries, objected against the “aggressions, extravagance, and debaucheries of the Kalākaua regime.” Thurston, Sanford Dole, and their acolytes formed the “Hawaiian League,” a secret society that overthrew the Hawaiian kingdom a decade later. What followed was the adoption of American criminal law regarding vice. The Marihuana Tax Act of 1937 effectively banned its sale and use. Through the territorial and early statehood era, Honolulu, the largest city in the archipelago, followed a policy of containment, in which drug smuggling was kept to Chinatown, later fictionalized in Charlie Chan books and movies.

Everything changed with the baby boomers. In the ’60s and ’70s, young Americans alighted from jets and populated the north shores of Kaua‘i, Maui, O‘ahu, and Hawai‘i Island, bringing American weed culture with them. As common as copies of the Whole Earth Catalog, marijuana was integral to the scene, along with surfing, DIY culture, anti-consumerism, and an aversion to authority. An article in Rolling Stone in 1979 made the unsubstantiated claim that marijuana was Hawai‘i’s No. 1 crop, followed closely by sugar and pineapple. Backyard growers were cultivating strains like Maui Wowie, Kona Gold, Pineapple Express, and Puna Butter, exporting them around the world in an untaxed, illegal trade. Plumes of smoke proliferated during Diamond Head crater music festivals. Pā‘ia on Maui became a haven of the free-love movement. Weed was tolerated by the progressive, multicultural community and trafficked by a syndicate of Polynesian men who operated outside the law and avoided high-profile interactions with the justice system. Don Ho and Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole wrote songs extolling pakalolo. In The Audacity of Hope , Barack Obama’s pre-presidency autobiography, he writes of the elation associated with getting blazed as a Punahou School student in the 1970s: “If the high didn’t solve whatever it was that was getting you down, it could at least help you laugh at the world’s ongoing folly and see through all the hypocrisy and bullshit and cheap moralism.”

This youthful drug culture was sharply rebuked by the Nixon administration’s Controlled Substances Act of 1970, which classified marijuana as a Schedule I drug. Enforcement escalated through the ’80s and ’90s. In the fields and forests of Hawai‘i, beginning in the late ’70s, federal, state, and county law enforcement began Operation Green Harvest, a federally funded state program dedicated to eradicating the illegal growing of marijuana. Law enforcement began using aircraft, primarily helicopters, to identify and eradicate groves of marijuana growing on public and private land. Such raids became weed-world infamous, like the operations performed in the back of Moanalua Valley and the noisy raids conducted around the green belt above Kailua-Kona on Hawai‘i Island that resulted in the confiscation of literal tons of plants and equipment.

Throughout the United States from the ’70s to the present, an exorbitant budget has been distributed for contracts for equipment, training, and administration of such programs via state funds and the Drug Enforcement Administration’s Domestic Cannabis Eradication/Suppression Program. At times, such raids have violated the Constitutional protection against unreasonable search and seizure. Property has been damaged in zealous, poorly conceived militarization of local police. Police raids and enhanced prosecutions upended lives, the weight of which was inequitably felt by the poor. Proponents of the decriminalization of cannabis argue that the war on drugs had the unintentional effect of promoting hard drugs—particularly crack cocaine and methamphetamine—by forcing marijuana into illegality, categorizing it at the same level of drug, and punishable with the same jail sentences. Despite the legalization of medical marijuana in Hawai‘i in 2000, DEA funding for raids is still available to county police departments, who have used Coast Guard helicopters or rented commercial ones for $650 an hour. In 2015, the DEA reportedly eradicated 109 outdoor grow sites and confiscated 15,852 plants in Hawai‘i alone. In 2007, Hawai‘i County residents banded together to object to the state’s continued raids. Aggravated by the helicopter intrusions, voters organized and passed the Peaceful

When asked where the seeds for plants will come from, Gorman responds, “God. The law is silent on that, so we must be as well.”

 Medical marijuana dispensaries must track cannabis “from seed to sale,” which means that the businesses must tag and monitor each plant from its seed to harvest to destruction.

Sky ordinance, which made the personal cultivation (24 or fewer plants) of marijuana by persons 21 and older the lowest police enforcement priority; it also reduced the sentence for possessing less than an ounce of marijuana to a petty misdemeanor without the weight of a jail sentence. The supremacy of federal and state law, however, meant that the county ordinance held no legal weight—it was essentially a suggestion.

In August 2013, U.S. Attorney General James Cole published a four-page memorandum addressed to all U.S. attorneys who prosecute federal drug laws, writing, “In jurisdictions that have enacted laws legalizing marijuana in some form ... conduct in compliance with those laws and regulations is less likely to threaten the federal priorities.”

The Cole memo was followed shortly in 2014 with a provision, tucked into a $1.1 trillion spending law signed by President Obama, that prohibits federal authorities from raiding dispensaries in states where medical marijuana is legal.

By 2015, Hawai‘i dispensary advocates had an opening. In addition to a growing body of medical studies and changing culture, advocates proffered the relatively benign effects of marijuana as an alternative to opiates and other “hard” drugs. The pyrrhic fact of the American drug war is that it failed. Opiate usage is on the rise, and painkillers are prescribed and resold on the black market. The drug war’s effect in Hawai‘i, which Native Hawaiians bore the brunt of, was not dissimilar to the impact of crack cocaine and its criminalization on African American communities.

Many involved in the reclassification of marijuana nationally are baby-boomers, who will need legal pain medication as elderly citizens. A 2015 CNN special hosted by Dr. Sanjay Gupta titled “ Weed ” extolled the medicinal benefits of cannabis for an hour. “I was wrong,” and “systematically misled” on the information regarding marijuana, Gupta said. Science has followed. Studies note that marijuana is far less destructive or addictive than alcohol, and cannot cause death by overdose. More than 60 international health organizations support a patient’s right to marijuana access. The now-legal and increasingly corporate sector of marijuana production is focusing on catering to seniors.

In August 2016, a federal court in San Francisco ruled that the Department of Justice can no longer spend money to prosecute users who obey their state’s medical marijuana laws. Police reports often include the phrase “the smell of marijuana” as a pretense for stopping an individual for suspicion of committing a crime. It is now legal to smell like you just got blazed, with a card from the Department of Health, as long as you are not operating a vehicle or heavy machinery.



“Marijuana is just a part of what we do as farmers, as people who are trying to live off the land,”says Nohea (whose name has been changed), a Maui farmer who has been growing organic marijuana for several cardholders for the past few years.

on Maui. The dispensary’s permanent home is still under construction in a new Wailuku development, which had been a fallow tract of former agricultural land. Its grow site upcountry has been built and stocked. When the dispensary is operational, cardholders will be able to walk in, shop, and leave with up to 4 ounces of legal marijuana every 15 days.

At the company’s temporary office near the Kahului Airport, I am shown a presentation that has been made to different organizations across the state, including police departments, parent-teacher associations, and Rotary clubs. On the board of Maui Grown Therapies is a former Maui Land and Pineapple CEO, a practicing oncologist, a practicing pediatrician, and a beloved doctor who was a guest on Oprah.

“Most of us grew up here, including myself. That’s why we chose this name,” says Teri Freitas Gorman, the director of community relations and patient affairs at Maui Grown Therapies, one of the two dispensaries licensed to operate

“The state has highly regulated everything we can and cannot do,” Gorman explains. “That’s why our website is so spare, and I can only disclose so much about our operation.” Plants must be grown indoors (though an opaque roof is allowed), a beefy security system must be in place, and when

and where patients interact with the product on-site is highly regulated. Any part of the plant can be used. In addition to marijuana for smoking, dispensaries are allowed to sell lotions, salves, transdermal patches, lozenges, aerosols, and oils. Edibles are not yet legal.

When asked where the seeds from plants will come from, Gorman responds, “God. The law is silent on that, so we must be as well.” From planting, it takes approximately six months to harvest marijuana in Hawai‘i, shorter than it would in colder climes. Vendors must track cannabis “from seed to sale,” which means that the businesses must tag and monitor each plant. It took nearly a year for the state to find a company that can handle this task, finalizing a contract with BioTrackTHC in November 2016. This Florida company’s software tracks each plant from its seed to harvest to destruction. This is not how agriculture usually works—it’s not as if the government makes tomato growers track a whole field of individual little sprouts— but it allows the state to maintain accountability, and limit diversion into and from the black market.

But logistics are not the issue for those to whom Gorman has been presenting her PowerPoint. “The PTA and police were mainly concerned about how this would affect the way marijuana is viewed by kids,” Gorman says. Their concern, valid in the context of considering marijuana a “gateway drug,” seems at odds with the reality of daily life on the Valley Isle. Willie Nelson, who has a line of weed that is distributed in Oregon and Colorado under the name “Willie’s Reserve,” runs a popular restaurant in Pā‘ia. “Finally the Herbs Come Around” by Collie Buddz has been at the top of beach-party playlists from 2007 to the present. Head shops selling bongs and glass pipes abound. The island’s Ohana Greenhouse does brisk business. Kids call the Maui Police Department “Babylon,” the way Rastafarians refer to oppressive,

materialist states. Dispensaries, through extreme vetting and legislation, are beginning to align law with culture.

I’m ascending a rain-slicked slope in an East Maui valley in the bed of a pickup truck, past several untended plots of land, a world away from urban rooms where marijuana policy is being debated and temperature-controlled warehouses where medicinal marijuana will soon be sold. It’s difficult not to be overcome by the scene: A tradewind breeze sweeps along a carpet of iridescence and through rustling koa trees and tī leaf stands; a brook flows down a wooded mountain and into a terraced lo‘i kalo, or taro farm, before exiting at the bottom of the property. Banana and papaya grow in cultivated stands along the perimeter of the lo‘i. Nearby, under an opaque corrugated roof, a dozen potted female cannabis plants sway head-high in the wind. With pruning shears and deft hands, my host trims unmistakable symmetrically bladed leaves from a dense calyx, the plant’s reproductive whorl of a yet-unfurled flower. Pistils flare off the bud in tangerine and ochre, bound with sticky trichomes in a tight bloom of potential energy, waiting to explode into kinetic biological reproduction. This is a marijuana cover model, something off a head-shop poster.

These plants are legal. According to the 2000 state law, medical marijuana cardholders are allowed to task others with growing their seven plants for them. “The law doesn’t say how many plants we can grow on a single property,” explains Nohea*, a Maui native who has been harvesting organic marijuana for several cardholders for the last few years. “We are careful to make sure each plant is tagged.” In keeping with the law, such growers carefully manage the number of plants associated with a patient’s card, and its date of planting.

“Marijuana is just a part of what we do as farmers, as people who are trying

to live off the land,” Nohea says. “We have some of the best natural resources on the planet. It’s still possible to live off the land here. There are plenty of people who refuse to be part of the system.”

Most of Hawai‘i’s strains of marijuana have become exceedingly hearty and potent. Organic farming methods bring lower yields and mellower highs, using growing materials that smokers are comfortable with. “Our parents and their friends have been smoking weed most of their lives,” Nohea says. “They know what it does and doesn’t do.”

On Maui, as elsewhere in the United States, the quasi-legal marijuana industry is regulated by quasi-legal security and pricing systems. The next state legislation passed could ban private cultivation of cannabis. The federal policy regarding marijuana enforcement could again change with the appointment of an attorney general with a differing ideology. “Every time you hear a helicopter, you freak a little. But the best security is not being greedy,” she says. “Grow a lot of plants, and you’re just asking to get jacked or raided. This is not about profit. If you’re trying to get rich off of marijuana, then I doubt you’re doing it right.”

For Nohea, the new medical marijuana companies in Hawai‘i are an unknown factor for her business. “We are scared that the dispensaries, with all their cash, will say that this is illegal,” Nohea says. “I hope they don’t see us as a competitor, or a threat.” The concern is warranted. Powerful economic interests are at play in an emerging market, with uncertain outcomes. “‘Āina-based care— it’s got to be possible,” she says. We survey the scene as we chat. A pit bull puppy, a sorry excuse for a guard dog, lounges under a plastic awning, leaning against a potted plant, the carefully cultivated descendant of plants brought to Hawai‘i centuries earlier.

*Name changed

A modern manual for matrimony in Hawai‘i.

Special Section

FLUX HAWAII

Above: Corso silk gown from Galia Lahav, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon. Right: David Fielden lace gown and jeweled hair comb, both available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; Tiffany T square bracelet in 18k white gold with princess-cut diamonds, inside-out hoop earrings in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany Victoria line bracelet in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany Victoria band ring in platinum with diamonds, and Tiffany Victoria alternating ring in platinum with diamonds, all from Tiffany & Co.

FASHION

72 Bridal Gowns 

84 De La Rosa Designs

TIP LIST

86 Setting the Stage: Opihi Love 

88 Making Memories: Aria Studios

90 Hear, Hear: The Wedding Toast

92 Destination Wedding: Seven Secrets

94 A Picture-Perfect Backdrop: Les Saisons 

PARTNERS

95 Waimea Valley

96 The Wedding Cafe & Pomaikai Ballrooms

Model Eva Blacker wears the Karlita silk organza top over the Luna bralette, designed by De La Rosa; ring in platinum with a fancy yellow diamond and diamonds, Tiffany & Co. Photographed by John Hook at the Moana Surfrider, A Westin Resort & Spa.

The Remains of the Day

Arlington gown by Alexandra Grecco, made from 100 percent satin face chiffon, and jeweled hair comb, both available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; Tiffany Victoria line bracelet in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany & Co.

Corso silk gown from Galia Lahav’s haute couture line, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon (also shown in right detail); Tiffany South Sea Noble ring in platinum with diamonds and a cultured pearl, Elsa Peretti diamond hoop bracelet in 18k gold with diamonds, Tiffany Victoria alternating ring in platinum with diamonds, and Elsa Peretti earrings of pearls and diamonds in platinum, all from Tiffany & Co.

Limited edition Tiffany setting ring with a platinum band and prongs set with pavé diamonds; dresses shown here from Magnolia White Bridal Salon.

Arlington gown by Alexandra Grecco, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; Tiffany Victoria mixed cluster earrings in platinum with diamonds, and pendant in platinum with a round diamond, both from Tiffany & Co.

Eva gown in Colombian cotton and guipure lace, designed by De La Rosa; Tiffany Enchant scroll earrings in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany & Co.

Gala two-piece gown with long tulle skirt by Galia Lahav, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; Tiffany Enchant flower bracelet in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany & Co.

Background: Vivienne gown by Alexandra Grecco, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon.

Below: Gala gown by Galia Lahav, available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; limited edition Tiffany setting ring with a platinum band and prongs set with pavé diamonds, Tiffany Victoria mixed cluster earrings in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany Enchant flower bracelet in platinum with diamonds, Tiffany Victoria alternating ring in platinum with diamonds, and Tiffany Victoria band ring in platinum with diamonds, all from Tiffany & Co.

Right: Carmen cape, designed by De La Rosa; Tiffany round diamond earrings in platinum, Tiffany South Sea Noble ring in platinum with diamonds and a cultured pearl, and Elsa Peretti cabochon ring in 18k gold with green jade, all from Tiffany & Co.

Below: Monica skirt by De La Rosa. Right: Laceembellished gown by David Fielden and jeweled hair comb, both available from Magnolia White Bridal Salon; Tiffany T square bracelet in 18k white gold with princesscut diamonds, inside-out hoop earrings in platinum with diamonds, and Tiffany Victoria line bracelet in platinum with diamonds, all from Tiffany & Co.

Fit for a Rose

Rachel Flemister’s casual, made-toorder designs are perfect for modern brides in Hawai‘i.

TEXT BY ANNA HARMON

IMAGES BY LILA LEE

A year after Rachel Flemister married her husband, Beau, they set out to travel the world. Departing from Los Angeles, they visited everywhere from Mongolia to Indonesia. Along the way, Rachel was sketching, gathering fabrics (like the lace from Guatemala now featured in her Eva dress), and figuring out the style of her bridal line, De La Rosa. “The main thing is creating things I’m actually proud of and want to wear,” she says. Rachel began sewing as an early teen, taught by her

mother, who had learned from her own mother. She scoured Walmart for fabric, making pajama pants for friends and dresses to wear for Christmas Eve service. After high school, Rachel attended the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising, taking an internship that landed her a spot at Bebe after graduating in 2008, then a designer role at Juicy Couture. “I love the process, from going to get fabric to patternmaking to draping to making the actual garment,” Rachel says.

Now, with her made-toorder line, she is able to do it all. Rachel features more casual fabrics in her creations, like silk, and lace made with cotton rather than nylon. For this, she heads to Los Angeles to source deadstock fabrics that would otherwise be thrown away— a sustainable approach to fashion. She also intends to tweak vintage wedding dresses, transforming oldfashioned silhouettes into modern profiles.

After figuring out the line’s aesthetic, Rachel

 To see examples of Rachel Flemister’s made-to-order creations, visit @delarosa_bride on Instagram.

needed to come up with a name. “‘Rachel Flemister’ is such a mouthful, it doesn’t really roll off the tongue,” she says. Then she thought about her sewing heritage, and remembered her mother’s maiden name, De La Rosa. “It was the most fitting thing,” she says. “And it means ʻof the rose,’ so I want everything to be really soft and flowerlike and easy and simple.”

Setting the Stage

Melissa Padilla of Opihi Love offers insight into how couples can manifest the wedding of their dreams.

IMAGES COURTESY OF OPIHI LOVE

Planning a wedding can be overwhelming for any couple—and especially so for anyone tying the knot away from home. That’s where Melissa Padilla and her team at Opihi Love step in. An East Coast girl with an island soul, Padilla’s passion for rousing the intimate details of a couple’s wedding from daydream into reality continually sets the stage for beautiful, bespoke

destination weddings around the world, from New York to Maui to Italy.

“I draw my inspiration from each of our couples’ love stories, family traditions, or commonalities within their personalities,” the Opihi Love founder and creative director says. “I want all our couples to walk into their weddings and know every single detail was produced for them—every flower, every design choice, every detail.”

Padilla’s story, along with the impetus for her company, is reflective of the limpet from which Opihi Love’s name is derived. Found on large rocks within surf zones of Hawaiian waters, ‘opihi find a single rock and cling to them for their entire life spans. “The ‘opihi is very parallel to my life,” Padilla says. “I moved to Maui to learn more about my Japanese heritage, and our Hawaiian culture, and it was there that I found the man of my dreams—my rock—and I wasn’t going to let go. If it weren’t for the rough surf of life’s crazy cycles, I would not have had the strength to create Opihi Love. Now, my sweet family is like little ‘opihi: bonded, growing strong, and loving our incredible life.”

In the same way that family creates strength, Padilla believes that having a team behind wedding plans allows couples to focus on the most important part of

 Having a team behind wedding plans allows a couple to focus on the most important part of their special day: each other.

 Flowers are an essential element of wedding design, and they can always be repurposed after the wedding, like during a recovery brunch, to create another memorable guest experience.

their special day: each other. Here, she offers some helpful hints in making any wedding—whether at home or abroad—truly memorable.

TIP 1: ALWAYS HAVE A PLAN B IN CASE OF INCLEMENT WEATHER.

If you are hosting an outdoor wedding, always have a backup tent on hold. If the property is large enough, you can place your tent in an out-of-the-way location, and utilize it only if necessary. Make sure the backup tent can accommodate your dance floor, deejay, bar, catering needs, and number of guests. Tent options are vast today, and you can use a tent that supports your wedding design. Sailcloth, Bedouin, or clear-top tents are all gorgeous options.

 Consider what type of lighting is easily able to transition from an outdoor setting to a tent setting if you need to do a game-day switch.

TIP 2: DEDICATE 10 PERCENT OF YOUR OVERALL SPENDING PLAN TO FLORAL COSTS.

Although florals are ephemeral, they are the paint to your blank canvas and an essential element of your overall wedding design. Flowers can also be given a second life and used to create another memorable experience for your guests. At the end of your wedding, save flowers from your vessels and arrangements in boxes. The next day, host a recovery brunch, and hire your florist to teach friends and family how to create a flower crown or flower lei. It’s a great day-after activity perfect for reminiscing about all the fun the night before.

 Consider using locally grown flowers. See what flowers are in season in the region or destination where you are getting married, and take a look at local farmers who might be able to forage specific flowers for you.

TIP 3: GET TO KNOW YOUR PHOTOGRAPHER.

Your photos are the timeless keepsakes that capture coveted memories of your wedding day. Make sure to meet the team behind the lens, and confirm that there is a connection and ease about your relationship with them. They will be documenting your most important day. Ask your photographer if they are familiar with your venue and with the lighting in that specific location. Have them walk your destination property to find the perfect settings prior to the wedding day. Provide them with a shot list. Also, consider providing photos of your bridal party and family members, so they can put names to faces. All these things will allow the photographers to maximize the time you have hired them for.

 Consider the type of photographs you are attracted to—black and white, classic, editorial, or lifestyle. This will direct you to a photographer suitable for your wedding day.

Making Memories

Kolby Akamu Moser of Aria Studios provides helpful hints to ensure matrimonial moments last a lifetime.

IMAGES COURTESY OF ARIA STUDIOS

Your wedding is sure to be a day to remember. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to enjoy some of what you spent months, perhaps even years, planning. But more likely than not, you will be busy greeting guests, dancing first dances, and making speeches—the night will whizz right by. Kolby Akamu Moser, director and cofounder of Aria Studios—a team of friends and creatives specializing in wedding, commercial, and lifestyle video and photography— offers some advice on how to ensure wedding day memories last forever.

 For more information, visit ariastudios.com.

 Wedding photography and cinematography are incredibly intimate processes. Make sure you feel 100 percent comfortable and confident with whomever you hire. Shown above is the crew of Aria Studios, a team of friends and creatives specializing in wedding, commercial, and lifestyle video and photography.

 What advice would you have for couples in regards to photo and cinema?

Wedding photography and cinematography is an incredibly intimate process. Your photographers and cinematographers will be with you as you get ready, exchange gifts, and prepare to walk down the aisle. They will interact with you and your family more than any other vendor on your wedding team. Make sure you feel 100 percent comfortable and confident with whom you hire. They should make you feel beautiful and excited, and should help troubleshoot any hiccups that might arise to ensure you have an awesome experience.

 How can I get the video and photo team I want if I’m on a budget?

Your photos and videos are the only things that will remain after the music ends, guest have gone home, and the wedding buzz

wears off. Invest in the team whose style and approach you really love. Go for a smaller package, trim your guest list, spend less on things that aren’t as important to you. It is worth rearranging your budget to make it happen.

 What makes a good wedding video? When it comes to video, content is king. Writing your own personal vows or prepping speech givers to deliver a meaningful toast are a few ways you can help create great content for your film. Feel free to invite others (not just your best man or maid of honor) to give a toast as well.

 Any other tips?

When your wedding day finally arrives, don’t sweat the small stuff! Months or even years of preparation will blaze by in an instant.

 A portion of every Aria Studios project goes to support The Aria Children’s Fund, a nonprofit that seeks to bring about awareness and positive change for children in need across the globe. For more information, visit ariachildrensfund.org.

Hear, Hear

Save the awkward, embarrassing stories for another time. Instead, heed these tips for giving a meaningful and memorable wedding toast.

TEXT BY ARA FEDUCIA

IMAGES BY JOHN HOOK

Writing a speech for a wedding is arguably one of the most daunting responsibilities known to man (second only to writing an article on how to give a wedding speech). Tasked with reciting a few words in honor of the bride or groom, speech givers quietly lament befriending the loving duo. In the last 10 years, I’ve attended at least 10 weddings, including my own. At these weddings, I’ve heard two types of speeches: those that make you cry and reconnect with your inner self; and those that make you cringe with your mouth agape. On such momentous occasions, I’ve heard it all, including a drunken family member reminding guests of the bride’s propensity for prescription drugs; a maid of honor outlining, in PowerPoint presentation, several awkward pubescent photos of the bride; and a groomsman who thought it was an excellent idea to “wing it,” taking us on a long walk past ghosts of girlfriends past.

Careful thought and personal touches need to be considered when undergoing the writing process. When in doubt, run through this list to help you prepare a speech that will fill the happy couple with warm memories of family, love, and celebration.

GIVE THANKS TO THE PARENTS. Being a new parent has taught me that weddings aren’t just a celebration of a couple’s eternal love for each other, but are actually a celebration for parents and the rest of the family. Don’t forget to show your appreciation to them, because there’s a huge chance they are the patrons of the wedding.

INTRODUCE YOURSELF. What is your relationship to the bride or groom? Share a personal memory of how you connected. What have you learned about each other over the years? Share what you appreciate about your friendship.

ASK THE BRIDE OR GROOM WHAT THEY LOVE ABOUT EACH OTHER. Beforehand, ask the bride or groom what they wish for in their marriage and read them aloud. Share with everyone why they are perfect for each other.

CONNECT WITH THE CROWD WITH A QUOTE OR A POEM ABOUT LOVE OR MARRIAGE. Remind the couple that this is a celebration of their love and partnership with an uplifting quote, poem, or song lyric that fits the theme or mood.

GIVE PRAISES. Has the couple overcome obstacles together? What kinds of encouragements can you give or blessings should they receive?

SAVE THE WISECRACKS FOR A ROAST. Wedding speeches should not be treated like a roast. Again, this could be a traumatic day for the couple after years or months of preparation. Careful measures are being taken by the couple to exude poise and grace, so the last thing they want to see is a picture of themselves with braces, blue eye shadow, and their perm tied with a scrunchie.

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT. Improvised and unrehearsed speeches always seem to fall short, and often end with the crowd slow-clapping politely. Take some time to jot down notes. Read your draft aloud to someone else, and be attentive to reactions. Another listener could give you needed insight on that joke you wanted to share. Good practice can help smooth out the rough edges of your speech.

KEEP THEIR SECRETS TO YOURSELF. It’s in terrible taste to disclose the couple’s sordid past to the party. Remember, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

HOLD OFF ON THE BUBBLY UNTIL AFTER THE TOAST. Liquid courage seems like a quick solution, but you need to give the audience your full attention.

BE KIND AND BE YOURSELF. I could give you a whole list of anecdotes, but nothing beats a message from the heart. Don’t forget to write it down!

HONOR THEIR PARTNERSHIP. Raise your glass and give the newly married couple a toast that celebrates their family and the future that lies ahead of them.

Seven Secrets to a Successful Destination Wedding

Experience romantic Hawai‘i at Starwood Hotels and Resorts.

From the best places to kiss, to breathtaking and isolated overlooks, the Hawaiian Islands are the leader in weddings and honeymoons. Here, in addition to sun, surf, shopping, and nightlife, opportunities abound for romance. Each of Starwood Hotels and Resorts’ 11 hotels in Hawai‘i offers outstanding, authentic wedding, honeymoon, and vow renewal experiences that capture the spirit of

that special day. Starwood’s romance packages are as varied as the islands themselves—combining the finest rooms and suites with popular amenities like breakfast, golf, massage, champagne, and sunset sailing adventures. The stunningly beautiful venues and unforgettable experiences include poolside and beachside ceremonies, grand celebrations, and intimate dinners by candlelight.

PLANNING TO TIE THE KNOT? READ SEVEN TIPS FROM THE PROFESSIONALS:

ONE “Hire a wedding planner who knows the destination and shares your vision. This person can source reliable vendors for your special day and attend to all the details and responsibilities once wedding week begins. You will need one!” —Stuart Kotake, The Royal Hawaiian, a Luxury Collection Resort

TWO “When people think of destination weddings, beach venues are usually high on their list. But most beaches cannot be reserved and sand can be messy. Instead, consider holding the ceremony at a private spot just footsteps away from the beach with a great view.” —Beata Vanderzee, The Westin Ka‘anapali Ocean Resort Villas

 For more tips and information, visit weddings-in-hawaii.com.

 Did you know?

The Moana Surfrider, A Westin Resort and Spa has the only oceanfront spa in Waikīkī. For the ultimate couple’s renewal, the spa has private oceanfront suites with whirlpool tubs and breathtaking views, where the couple can relax together.

THREE “Use local florals for your bouquets and arrangements. Not only do they add to the overall ambiance, they can be less expensive than florals that aren’t readily available on the island.” —Andrea Frick, Sheraton Maui Resort and Spa

FOUR “Consider group-contracting for air tickets, transportation from the airport, activities, and, of course, hotel room blocks. Your travel professional or the hotel sales department can assist you.” —Laurie Ihara, Sheraton Princess Kaiulani

FIVE “Prearrange group activities and let your attendees know what to pack. The Big Island offers many natural wonders, so if you are planning to zipline, bike down a crater, snorkel with the manta rays, or hike

the birding trail, your guests will want to be prepared.” —Tammie Carpenter, Sheraton Kona Resort and Spa at Keauhou Bay

SIX “Are you on a budget? The resort weddings team can customize a restaurant dinner menu. This is ideal for smaller wedding parties and can be less costly than a similar banquet menu.” —Chelsea Schroeder, Sheraton Kauai Resort

SEVEN “Photography is a crucial component of the experience. Hire a professional photographer or videographer for some of the pre- and post-wedding activities with family and friends.” —Brittany McIntyre Enos, The Westin Maui Resort and Spa

 Family and friends can help pay for your wedding or honeymoon at any Starwood resort in Hawai‘i. Create a personalized honeymoon registry and a free wedding website for an amazing experience. For more information, visit starwoodhi. honeymoonwishes.com.

A Picture-Perfect Backdrop

Let Les Saisons help you create stunning settings. IMAGES COURTESY OF LES SAISONS

From the exquisite detail of a couture gown to the wild glory of the seasons, Les Saisons is inspired by the passion and excitement of a couple’s once-in-a-lifetime event. The company specializes in providing linens, décor, floral and design services, as well as connections to Hawai‘i’s finest event vendors, weaving together concept, design, impeccable preparation, and white-glove installation. Here, Les Saisons owner Melissa Blake shares a few things her team keeps in mind when coordinating an event to make sure it is nothing less than extraordinary.

 What is most important to remember when using color? Brides should choose a primary and secondary color they really love—remember, it’s your wedding so you can’t go wrong! Stick to a maximum of three colors and have them displayed in unequal proportions. The primary color, for example, might make up about 70 percent of the wedding design, with a supporting color and accent color making up the rest.

 To drape or not to drape? Gorgeous draping is a surefire way to completely revamp a reception space, create a dramatic entry, or make the head table a focal point. When using drapery, don’t forget the up-lights.

 Why have a lounge area? Lounges help give guests a variety of seating options. These areas also add a personal touch that’s cozy, warm, and inviting. Dress the area up with framed personal photos, or use a trunk as a coffee table. Don’t underestimate the importance of lighting, especially in outdoor areas.

 What elements create the perfect place-setting presentation?

A few stunning pieces mixed in with everyday dinnerware can make an amazing difference. Mix in unexpected glassware, fun silverware, or an elegant charger plate. Remember, not every table needs to look identical. For functionality, dinner plates are typically placed on the buffet line, but placing them on the table also works and is much more stylistic.

 For more information, visit lessaisonshawaii.com.

Waimea Valley

With natural settings found nowhere else on O‘ahu, Waimea Valley is an ideal setting for your once-in-a-lifetime occasion. From its breathtaking waterfall to luscious green meadows and world-class botanical gardens, the natural beauty of Waimea Valley is an elegant, romantic backdrop for your special wedding day. Our experienced teams are dedicated to making your wedding a truly memorable experience.

 To learn more about Waimea Valley weddings, visit waimeavalley.net.

Wedding Cafe

When you first dreamt of your wedding, it was probably all peonies and ball gowns. Fastforward to being engaged in 2017: Planning is confusing. Your families are giving you ulcers. And don’t even mention the budget. Enter: The Wedding Cafe, a company that helps couples arrive happily at “I Do!” Straight-up wedding advice, a curated list of Hawai‘i’s top wedding pros, and weekly workshops have made The Wedding Cafe the locals’ choice since 2001.

 For more information, visit theweddingcafe.com.

POMAIKAI BALLROOMS

Experience the warmth and modern elegance of the Pomaikai Ballrooms. Conveniently located in Iwilei, in central Honolulu, Pomaikai features two spacious ballrooms with multiple breakout areas.

 For more information, visit pomaikaiballrooms.com.

LES SAISONS

Les Saisons weaves together fine linens, personalized florals, and unique event decor for an overall look that is nothing less than extraordinary.

 For more information, visit lessaisonshawaii.com.

Get It Together

The founder of botanical boutique Paiko, Tamara Rigney, shares tips on harvesting and displaying local flora.

TEXT BY TAMARA RIGNEY

IMAGES BY MARIKO REED

In Hawaiʻi, there is a thin line between inside and out. Rain blows through our windows year-round. Trade winds bring the distinctly Hawaiian fragrance of tropical flowers into our bedrooms at night. Geckos live with us—whether we like it or not. And though we remove our shoes at the front door, sand always finds its way in.

Here, in the islands, we spend as much time as we can outside, and when it is time to go indoors, we bring elements of nature with us, into our homes. We make floral arrangements to remind us that the sea, the forests, the mountains, are right outside, where we left them.

The book I created with photographer Mariko Reed, ʻOhi: How to Gather and Arrange Hawaii’s Flora , celebrates the resourcefulness that can stem from island living. In compiling it, we walked

 For plants that will surely last, choose those with heavy, waxy flowers, like heliconia.



‘Ohi celebrates the resourcefulness that can stem from island living and provides tips for bringing the outdoors in with floral arrangements.

roadsides and visited friends’ backyards. We stumbled upon the last few mountain apple blossoms, weeks after we thought the season had ended. We stood on our truck in a parking lot to harvest tulipwood flowers. We jogged home with a giant branch of seagrape we found on an evening run. Sometimes there were silver linings: A local farmer offered us a rare chance to get our hands on some banksia branches after a windstorm took out her tree. And sometimes we were determined: We beat early morning farmer’s market crowds to score bunches of dancing lady ginger.

From aloe plants flowering beneath freeways to laua‘e ferns growing out of sidewalk cracks and gutters, there is never a shortage of natural materials here. And because almost every plant you see in Hawai‘i is beautiful, you don’t need to be an expert

to make beautiful arrangements. It’s actually pretty simple: Get outside. Pull inspiration from your surroundings. Keep your clippers handy. The moment you discover a new plant, you will begin to notice it everywhere, giving you a fresh perspective on the natural beauty of the island you call home. Below are five tips from ʻOhi to guide you in creating arrangements of your own.

HARVESTING

Certain plants hold up better than others when cut. Thick, shiny leaves, like those of the monstera plant, and heavy, waxy flowers, like heliconia, are signs that a plant will last. Avoid soft juvenile growth, which is prone to wilting. Most plants, especially delicate ones like ferns, should go directly into water after harvesting.

 Trim stems while they’re submerged in water to help keep plants hydrated.

HYDRATING

Before arranging, trim your stems at a sharp angle and immediately place them in a clean bucket of lukewarm water. Even better, trim them while they are submerged in water, which prevents air from disrupting water flow, and is especially beneficial for soft-stemmed plants like ginger, uluhe ferns, and orchids.

 Because tropical plants come in an array of bold colors, only a few are needed to create eyecatching arrangements.

SELECTING A PALETTE

A good flower pairing is simply one that pleases your eye. Hold different materials together to explore color and texture combinations. With bold tropicals, you often only need one or two plants.

VASES

Aim for an arrangement about one to two times the height of your vase. Almost anything that holds water can make a vase. Borrow a glass from your kitchen, or reuse that pretty sake bottle you’ve been holding on to.

TYING BUNCHES

Tying stems in a bunch is a good strategy for arranging awkwardly shaped plant materials. This technique also allows you to use anything from a bowl to a water glass as a vase. Starting with the largest bloom, compose the bouquet in one hand, adding stems with the other. Long leaves, such as tī or whaleback, may be folded to create volume. Secure with several wraps of twine and a simple knot.

 These tips and the abridged introduction were excerpted from ‘Ohi: How to Gather and Arrange Hawaii’s Flora , which is available at select boutiques and online at paikohawaii.com.

Night Light

A sleepless chef finds rest—and an impressive collection of victuals—under the blanket of night along Honolulu trails.

TEXT BY JENNIFER MELEANA HEE

IMAGES BY MEAGAN SUZUKI

In the daylight, nature is in full-frontal forest grandeur, revealing her expanse and layers, her sheer and variegated faces, her remote, unreachable ridgeline. Crawling ferns border mulch; vines shroud branches; wild red gingers and violet orchids burst from tropical green; turkey tail mushrooms, with their

concentric mesa-colored bands, give dead wood new life. Framing all this small-scale beauty is the broad, majestic overstory, its intricate leaf patterns reverse-sunprinted in panorama against the sky. It’s a symphony of sights and sounds. Why would anyone walk intentionally in the darkness, where one can see only single notes of the forest? What can be found in the night?

I began foraging in the dark as an accident of hiking after sundown—which was the result of working all day in a kitchen. For most of my years as a chef, I chased the sun, as if its setting meant the outdoors were shutting for the eve. I’d rush to finish cooking and cleaning, grab my dogs, hit the trail. I was frenzied. I felt the constant disappointment of running out of time, not realizing that the best time of day was no time of day at all. I am a chef who dreams of a treehouse existence, meals made by campfire and imu, using the earth to cook itself, à la Francis Mallmann, but minus whole animals. I love work, but acknowledge daily the strangeness of using an air conditioner in the same vicinity as an oven. At every chance, I recalibrate to the wild, where I cannot control the environment with a

 Chef Jennifer Meleana Hee retreats under the cover of dark to forage for provisions, like the allspice shown here, on O‘ahu trails.

 Despite its lesser hues, hiking at night has its benefits: You never get sunburned, for one.

dial, where I can undo commercial connection to ingredients, and where I can value plants for their lush landscape alone.

Then, I settled for the night, and fell in love, despite its lesser hues and limited depths. It happened the same with the night as the way one falls in love with a person—staying up late, giddy, stumbling, and, you know, peering beneath every decaying log for signs of fungi. With the night, I would never get sunburned, but my heart could still skip with every sudden rustle from wild pigs or creak of branches.

During day foraging, I consistently mistake peeling bark for pepeiao (Auricularia auricula-judae). Pepeiao is brown, bark is brown—it is not an easy find. But in the dark, lit by a singular beam of light, pepeiao blooms from rotting kukui branches. Snow fungus (Tremella fuciformis) also becomes

ethereal. It seems to have fallen from the sky, settling like gelatinous coral on a trailside trellis of dry branches. The sensory conspicuity of fungus exists in natural darkness and unnatural light. Liliko‘i, guava, mountain apple, gotu kola, hō‘i‘o fern—all that can be found in the day can be found at night. But in the dark, when the forest enters my senses like poetry, discovery feels serendipitous. A rope swing dangling among the trees is a noose, ‘o‘opu is glitter caught in a stream, a waterfall has no beginning. Evening prosody is heavy breathing surrounded by stillness. The smallest finds, such as a sleeping Jackson chameleon, is extraordinary, perhaps because I never expected to find anything marvelous at all in the dark.

I struggle with sleep. As a teenager, I often woke up hyperventilating. The doctor attributed these episodes to

allergies. In my early 20s, I learned about choking ghosts and nocturnal panic attacks, and I wasn’t sure which disturbed me more—the possibility of getting strangled by that chick from The Ring , or that my chemical composition could strum up spontaneous terror mid-slumber. I conceded to sleepinducing pharmaceuticals, despite an otherwise hippie lifestyle—anything to turn the lights off. In my mid-30s, antidepressants upgraded my sleeping ability with epic 12-hour power naps, but I would never wake up completely, and also I had no feelings. In 2016, I weaned myself off all the easy little pills, instead brewing potent bedtime teas and trying to muffle my thoughts with strange whispered stories from strangers. (The sleepless know there is a vast online video library of noises and narratives, such as “writing with a pencil” and “spa facial role play,”

 During the day, pepeiao can easily be mistaken as bark, but at nighttime, when lit up by a flashlight, the wood ear mushrooms glow brilliantly.

that are supposed to trigger relaxation.) Every night, I approached my bed with longing for an easy descent, layered beneath apprehension that it will never be easy, that sleep and I are star-crossed. I live at the end of a silent country road with no street lights, yet my body echoes with sirens.

Like night-blooming cereus, I consider myself one of those strange species that prefers to emerge when no one’s watching. Hiking is already an introvertfriendly activity, but night hiking takes it up a level because you are treading an absolutely empty path while most are inside, resting. These nights I often choose the trail, its sleeping creatures and unexpected edible delights, to stall sleep. I don’t know how to slip

 Shown bottom, Brazilian pepper tree, also known as Christmas berry, an invasive perennial, produces berries that Hee uses similarly to pepper (the plant may cause gastric problems in some people).

into slumber, but I know how to explore the dark— with steady steps, a good headlamp (that becomes a beacon for every airborne bug in the forest to join the rave in front of your face), and the remembrance that heightened vigilance is a reflex to darkness, not a necessity. Darkness transforms the familiar. As I trace a ridge between two valleys, the distant city—with its buildings, its houses, its lit and lined streets—shrinks beneath the black, endless expanse. Hiking ahead of my friends on a rare late-night group trek and seeing only their headlamps bob steadily down the switchbacks, I wonder if residents of the valley below might mistake our movements for night marchers, if not for the laughter, making light of our unease.

 Like flowers that only bloom in the night, Jennifer Meleana Hee considers herself one of those strange species that prefer to emerge when nobody’s watching.

 Shown left, Stachytarpheta jamaicensis, or blue porterweed. Shown above, a friend of Hee’s reveals a yellow-hued strawberry guava.

Get to Know

Waikīkī’s Intimate Side

Discover redefined boutique service with a stay at Lotus Honolulu at Diamond Head, ideally situated on Waikīkī’s Gold Coast. Imagine starting your day with the warm Hawaiian sun peeking into your room to greet you. Next, charge up your day by sipping your morning coffee—brewed from

the in-room iperEspresso machine featuring Illy coffee—while gazing upon vivid ocean waves and majestic Diamond Head from the privacy of your very own lānai.

The excitement of Waikīkī lies within a stone’s throw of the hotel, just beyond Kapi‘olani Park. But first, yoga. Meander over to the Lotus Honolulu’s outdoor yoga class to stretch and find your center, then refuel with a healthy breakfast on the second floor overlooking the serene park. Now you’re ready to head out for the day’s casual adventures, from self-guided tours on beach cruiser bikes to an afternoon

spent lounging on Waikīkī Beach with beach chairs and towels in tow—all of which are amenities provided by the hotel’s friendly staff.

As the daylight drifts away, join the daily wine hour and chat with new friends in the hotel’s lobby. The rest of the evening is at your disposal, so why not come and create your own story in paradise?

 For more information, visit lotushonoluluhotel.com.

Ready. Set. Explore.

Whether you’re planning a romantic weekend or family vacation, or you simply want to escape from everyday life, Starwood Hotels and Resorts in Hawai‘i offers countless ways to explore more of the islands. Everything from spa renewals to exhilarating ocean adventures can be great ways to experience our island home.

HAWAI‘I ISLAND

Manta rays can be viewed year-round off the Big Island’s Kona Coast, and the Sheraton Kona Resort and Spa offers the best location to witness these graceful and hauntingly beautiful gentle giants. Its signature restaurant, Rays on the Bay, features a special viewing area to observe manta rays while sipping cocktails and enjoying the best of Hawaiʻi Island cuisine.

KAUA‘I

Located on the Garden Isle’s pristine north shore, The St. Regis Princeville Resort provides the perfect starting point to experience the destination. Golfers and non-golfers alike will revel in the new Sunset Golf Cart Tour—a six-stop expedition featuring the Makai Golf Course’s iconic sights. Instagramworthy views of Queen’s Bath, Kīlauea Lighthouse, and Hanalei Bay will have family and friends in awe.

O‘AHU

The oceanfront spa at the legendary Moana Surfrider, A Westin Resort and Spa is an oasis of pure relaxation. Overlooking Waikīkī Beach, the Moana Lani Spa offers signature massages, healing body treatments, and refreshing facials to inspire the spirit. With allday access to the relaxation lounge, whirlpool, and sauna, you’ll never want to leave.

MAUI

The 87,000-square-foot aquatic playground at The Westin Maui Resort and Spa, Ka‘anapali Surf Club offers kayak and snorkel eco-tours off Kā‘anapali Beach. These low-impact eco-tourism activities are designed to enrich the visitor experience by building environmental and cultural awareness of West Maui’s famed Black Rock. The professionally guided twohour tours include basic safety and paddling techniques. Guides then escort paddlers toward Black Rock to enjoy prime snorkeling. During the kayaking adventure, knowledgeable guides share ancient Hawaiian history, local folklore, and information about Maui’s marine wildlife.

 For more information and to book your next vacation, visit onlyinhawaii.com.

Curating for the Public

The Honolulu Biennial turns O‘ahu into a showcase for the transcendent array of contemporary Pacific art.

TEXT BY SONNY GANADEN

To get around Honolulu while performing her curatorial duties, Ngahiraka Mason has been taking the bus. “In New Zealand, people are far more direct,” she says, discussing the city’s social norms on public transportation—and in the art scene. “In Hawai‘i, some people would rather stand than speak up and take a seat. This place is so diverse, but there’s an odd conservatism about Hawaiʻi that I haven’t quite wrapped my mind around.” As half of Honolulu Biennial’s curatorial team, which has spent two years finding and developing contemporary art, Mason remains philosophical. “This place is not as generous as it seems, especially to artists. But as organizers, how do we lift people up?"

The Honolulu Biennial promises to be an event unlike any Hawaiʻi has seen. Founded by Isabella Hughes, Kóan Jeff

Baysa, and Katherine Tuider, the event—which takes place from March 8 to May 8 and boasts 34 artists, seven venues, and numerous public and private donors—has been in the planning phase for five years. It aims to be on par with the best in the world, like Art Basel in Miami, or the historic Venice Biennale, begun in 1895. Such events have become de rigueur travel destinations for wealthy arts patrons, contemporary artists, curators, academics, and the public. At their worst, biennials are debaucherous parties that commodify creative work. But at their best, they represent the transcendence of art, and the transnational exchange of ideas in free societies.

For 21 years, Mason was the curator of indigenous art at the Auckland Art Gallery, Toi o Tāmaki, where she broadened “indigenous art” to its most expansive conception. In 2013, the gallery featured dark, influential paintings by Māori minimalist Ralph Hotere, as well as temporary paper installations by architects Michael Lin and Atelier Bow-Wow. Mason defrays attention and bristles at the idea of celebrity curators, which have become normative in well-funded contemporary art. Two years ago, for a change of pace, Mason moved to Honolulu with her partner Manulani Meyer, an academic and activist. For the founders of Honolulu Biennial, Mason was an obvious pick for curator.

Together with Fumio Nanjo, the biennial’s curatorial director and the director of Tokyo’s Mori Art Museum, Mason has selected artists from cultures linked by the Pacific Ocean. The biennial will include mixed media provocations by Yayoi Kusama from Japan, reused-material installations by Choi Jeong Hwa from Korea, and digital projected displays by Māori artist Lisa Reihana from New Zealand. Mason and Nanjo

 Left: “Stone Cloud,” by Andrew Binkley. Top: “Strife of Maui with the Sun” (left); “Maui Seeks Fire” (right), by Charlton Kupa‘a Hee.

have intentionally picked several artists and collectives of Polynesian descent, in part to rectify the historic devaluing of living indigenous artists in Western museums. “We’re making indigenous artists central to the presentation,” Mason says.

The Honolulu Biennial is free for all to attend. Its sites are historic and urban, such as the sprawling 40,000-square-foot indoor space that was formerly a Sports Authority, and the iconic IBM Building, both set in the developing district of Kakaʻako. Other sites include Honolulu Hale, Foster Botanical Garden, The Arts at Marks Garage, Bishop Museum, and the Honolulu Museum of Art. “Anything that makes us talk to each other is a starting point,” Mason says of contemporary art. “Otherwise you’re just talking to yourself on the bus.”

Disclosure: Sonny Ganaden serves on the Honolulu Biennial Foundation board and FLUX Hawaii’s publishing company is a sponsor.

 For more information, visit honolulubiennial.org.



“Tai Whetuki – House of Death, Redux,” Lisa Reihana.

Photo courtesy AAG.

Sentiments on Sleeping Grass

The magic of this bashful herb awakens childlike sensibilities.

TEXT BY MATTHEW DEKNEEF

ILLUSTRATION BY MITCHELL FONG

Boy, does sleeping grass make me feel old. After all, what is a local childhood but crack seed stores, shave ice stands, manapua trucks, and beds of sleeping grass?

For the uninitiated—that is to say, for those not from Hawai‘i, Guam, Jamaica, the Philippines, or some other sunny, pan-tropical place—sleeping grass is as nostalgic as a regional plant can be. Patches of it are nestled in the corner of every grandma’s backyard. Its biological wonders are debuted to youth around the same age they learn to fold their first origami cranes. It is the island version of the bubble wrap that kids obsessively pop.

Writing about sleeping grass is a bit like poking and prodding the plant: harmless, a taunt that begets a trick, baffling but bewildering. Only an adult would try to intellectualize something like sleeping grass; the act is antithetical to the childlike fascination it deserves. At the slightest touch, not unlike the way my fingertips graze the letters of this keyboard in search of a sentence—pressing, pushing, deleting, staring, waiting—its leaves fold up, recede, then reopen before my eyes. (First drafts of writing sure feel this way, too, with blank fields of pages where ideas disappear into their own totalities when I dig at them.) Reaching both physically and figuratively for a batch of sleeping grass, I see it can’t be contained. No matter how lightly I treat the subject, it will always feel heavy-handed.

Sleeping grass has been called “bashful,” “shy,” “sensitive,” “pua hilahila” (ashamed), and a bouquet of other that recall that plants are living, breathing entities. It is also called Mimosa pudica, its scientific name, another thing adults did to sleeping grass in age: They made it technical, defining it as an herb of the pea family. Yet, by its simple nature and design, this plant somehow manages to make even personifications

the most pedantic corners of the Internet, like Wikipedia’s entry on Mimosa pudica, ring poetic: “The foliage closes in darkness and reopens in light.”

My first encounter with sleeping grass after relocating home from the mainland happened on O‘ahu’s east side in the summer of 2015. I was walking toward a fishpond in Hakipu‘u when a flash of sleeping grass, fanned out and a deep shade of green, appeared at my feet. Like when I have stumbled upon an old box of baseball cards or tuned into The Goonies mid-scene while channel-surfing, a dormant side of me took over when confronted at random with this relic of my youth. In such occasions, I pause. I grow sentimental. And, in this case, I quit stabbing my index finger at my phone and tapped into the earth.

Perhaps this is the everrelevant magic of sleeping grass: its agile ability to awaken a forgotten curiosity, to bring a grown man to his knees, waving his palm over every visible leaflet, scratching at the dirt. And, boy, it made me feel young.