Read Online Waking Up in Eden by Lucinda Fleeson - Free Book Online
Authors: Lucinda Fleeson
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your world seems to shrink and driving even to Lihue seems too far.â
As the sun descended to the ocean horizon, Dr. Klein and Janet began a practiced tuna duet, placing the thick steaks in a wire basket, then over banked coals. Janet set a timer to measurethe minutes before flipping the fish, as ahi is divine if left almost, but not quite, raw in the middle. Surrounded by a semicircle of guests, Dr. Klein hurtled full-throttle into a discourse about aliens, the invasive plant spe cies blamed for pushing out the native flora. Botanists hotly debate the topic, arguing over the definition of
native,
a distinction particularly difficult in Hawaii, where all plants originally arrived as colonists. Are native species those that existed before Cap tain Cook arrived or before the first Polynesians came in their voyaging canoes? Some botanists take a long view, that itâs part of the natural order for new invaders to take over until a balance prevails. Others hold that the aliens represent all the troubles man has unleashed with his infernal tinkering.
Dr. Klein was philosophical: âDo you realize that all of the Hawaii plants evolved from just two hundred and ninety different species? They came to Hawaii where they were set free in a superb environment, to adapt and flower out to hundreds of different forms, each acclimating to its own microclimate. I say that is why we canât get too upset about recent invaders. All of the plants in Hawaii were invaders of some sort. Can you imagine, being cut loose from all your past ghosts and demons and given perfect conditions to thrive and just take off?â
I laughed. âSounds like us, Bill.â
One of Hawaiiâs frequent rainbows poured down to Lawai-Kai. The luminous bands of colors were unusually bright. As the arc moved toward us, we stood still, entranced.
Dr. Klein announced merrily, âThis is the pot of gold!â
CHAPTER SIX
They Were One of Us
I N THE GARDEN library, I found a typewritten transcript of a tape-recorded conversation with John Allerton in which he described in detail how he and his adoptive father stumbled onto what would become their home for the rest of their lives. The transcript was useful in creating a picture of their early life, which I began to amplify by talking with James, my own gardener at the cottage, and anyone else I could find who knew the Allertons.
The two men were in the habit of making long winter cruises to exotic parts of the world, particularly the South Pacific and Southeast Asia. Returning home from Australia in 1938, they had time to kill, stuck in Honolulu for three days before their ship sailed back to America, then home to Illinois. Why donât you go see the old McBryde place on Kauai, a friend suggested. The property had been on the market for the three years since sugar planter Alexander McBryde had died.
Robert and John boarded a small plane to cross the rough one-hundred-mile channel that kept Kauai separate from the other islands. Robert, sixty-five, was intrigued. With his hair swept back, he was quiet and reserved and wore a pressed shirt and tie. John, thirty-seven, drove. Often laughing, John wasmore fun, more outgoing. He pulled the old Packard to a stop on the valley floor, and they got out. They walked onto the expanse of almost fluorescent green grass, under bending palms. The dark Victorian house wasnât much. Knock it down, John the architect suggested. A few Hawaiian tenants up the stream grew taro, watercress, pumpkins, and lotus roots. They could be removed, said Robert. You could build gates at the cliffs and no one could come in. They gazed back toward the head of the stream, up the valley that was enclosed by jungle and another wall of rock. It was its own world here.
Back in the rented car, they headed to Hanalei to see the old town and famous bay. After a half hour of silence, Robert ventured that it might be nice to have a winter place where they could stay instead of
As the sun descended to the ocean horizon, Dr. Klein and Janet began a practiced tuna duet, placing the thick steaks in a wire basket, then over banked coals. Janet set a timer to measurethe minutes before flipping the fish, as ahi is divine if left almost, but not quite, raw in the middle. Surrounded by a semicircle of guests, Dr. Klein hurtled full-throttle into a discourse about aliens, the invasive plant spe cies blamed for pushing out the native flora. Botanists hotly debate the topic, arguing over the definition of
native,
a distinction particularly difficult in Hawaii, where all plants originally arrived as colonists. Are native species those that existed before Cap tain Cook arrived or before the first Polynesians came in their voyaging canoes? Some botanists take a long view, that itâs part of the natural order for new invaders to take over until a balance prevails. Others hold that the aliens represent all the troubles man has unleashed with his infernal tinkering.
Dr. Klein was philosophical: âDo you realize that all of the Hawaii plants evolved from just two hundred and ninety different species? They came to Hawaii where they were set free in a superb environment, to adapt and flower out to hundreds of different forms, each acclimating to its own microclimate. I say that is why we canât get too upset about recent invaders. All of the plants in Hawaii were invaders of some sort. Can you imagine, being cut loose from all your past ghosts and demons and given perfect conditions to thrive and just take off?â
I laughed. âSounds like us, Bill.â
One of Hawaiiâs frequent rainbows poured down to Lawai-Kai. The luminous bands of colors were unusually bright. As the arc moved toward us, we stood still, entranced.
Dr. Klein announced merrily, âThis is the pot of gold!â
CHAPTER SIX
They Were One of Us
I N THE GARDEN library, I found a typewritten transcript of a tape-recorded conversation with John Allerton in which he described in detail how he and his adoptive father stumbled onto what would become their home for the rest of their lives. The transcript was useful in creating a picture of their early life, which I began to amplify by talking with James, my own gardener at the cottage, and anyone else I could find who knew the Allertons.
The two men were in the habit of making long winter cruises to exotic parts of the world, particularly the South Pacific and Southeast Asia. Returning home from Australia in 1938, they had time to kill, stuck in Honolulu for three days before their ship sailed back to America, then home to Illinois. Why donât you go see the old McBryde place on Kauai, a friend suggested. The property had been on the market for the three years since sugar planter Alexander McBryde had died.
Robert and John boarded a small plane to cross the rough one-hundred-mile channel that kept Kauai separate from the other islands. Robert, sixty-five, was intrigued. With his hair swept back, he was quiet and reserved and wore a pressed shirt and tie. John, thirty-seven, drove. Often laughing, John wasmore fun, more outgoing. He pulled the old Packard to a stop on the valley floor, and they got out. They walked onto the expanse of almost fluorescent green grass, under bending palms. The dark Victorian house wasnât much. Knock it down, John the architect suggested. A few Hawaiian tenants up the stream grew taro, watercress, pumpkins, and lotus roots. They could be removed, said Robert. You could build gates at the cliffs and no one could come in. They gazed back toward the head of the stream, up the valley that was enclosed by jungle and another wall of rock. It was its own world here.
Back in the rented car, they headed to Hanalei to see the old town and famous bay. After a half hour of silence, Robert ventured that it might be nice to have a winter place where they could stay instead of
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