Kohola ... Whale

The picnic spread itself over a three hour period, lasting well into the hour when the sky turned leery red. Beautiful, but, red because the Forest Fires' paints warned of the climate chaos present. Between bites of ham and cheese sandwiches, Stan unfurled a slow, deeply influenced story with the back beat of Mabelle keeping time for him. He was barefoot and very relaxed as he began, "Shine has an untampered ability to feel the songs of growing things." He pulled on the thick strings of the bass making bridges with word and tones. E-A-D-G. The tones were deep, slow, and grew. Instinctively Shine leaned against Mabelle's round sides. "She feels the sounds of living things, and music is one of the most ancient of living things. It all starts with the hum." Stan Costa looked at Dumpling. Lovingly embracing the round woman with his eyes. The sound of a bass guitar resonates in a beautiful way when the instrument is played near water, ocean in particular.

Check out the Bass solo at 1:50.

Standing with his feet in the sands and his body fully involved with Mabelle Stan continued his song. He'd asked Dumpling to save pieces of the picnic, the Food Plants: a slice of Watermelon, slices of Tomatoes, Cucumber. It was a strange and magical sonata. Stan pulled on the E-A-D-G strings in a spontaneous shoreline jam. He used his hands only, plucking and slapping the strings. 

At intervals he pointed to the Food Plants, Watermelon. Dumpling handed the fruit to Shine. The girl started with a hum. A hum of a specific pitch that grew into a song, vocalization. Waving like water might wave, but sweet and a little sticky. Pluck-pluck-slap ... like the sound of pa'i or hand slapping on the sides of an ipu or gourd during hula. Mabelle kept the beat, Shine added the hum, then the extension of song: Watermelon, Tomato, Cucumber. A Summer Salad Sonata!

Minutes passed with Stan and Shine creating the melody. Inspired and delighted Casey and Sara joined in. Casey's Sparrow Song was high and lilting. A long and winding song. Sara was a near baritone with range. She filled in between the tall high notes and found purchase between Stan's bass notes.

"That was ... amazing!" Casey has been around music, and Plant Food all her life. The fact that Shine was a deaf musician with so much gift to contribute was obvious. It was not uncommon, but, Casey had never been with a deaf musician, only read about them or listened to them on  YouTube. 

Stan was not quite done. "Linda, your daughter was born with a very special interstitial gift."

"Interstitial?" Linda was unsure of the meaning.

"It means, her gift as a young human being is very much like a Three Sisters Garden rolled into one." Stan knew that Linda had begun growing circles of corn, bean and squash at the Prairie Front Pea Patch. The Ancient First Peoples' community of gardens based on sharing who and what each Plant Food is good at was not a nebulous feel-good tale; it was the core and blueprint for Human People. If we applied the wisdom.

"Your daughter can Feel-Hear the voice and the song of Plant Food and grow heart medicine. Her deafness consolidates her gift. She feels vibration as a source and translates without reservation! Your birthday parties uncorked her gift to you. Three parties in a night. On a night when you were born. All the 'sisters' were present, and things had turned upside for you."

"You huli! Tip over." It was Dumpling. The Molina family, Stan Costa, and Dumpling Woman had a common thread. Each of them was related through their Polynesian genes. Though the blonde genes appeared most prevalent, Mrs. M's mother was half Tahitian. Stan Costa was born and raised a Portuguese-Hawaiian dairy farmer's son, but turned botanist when he graduated from the University of Hawaii on the island of O'ahu. Dumpling Woman in another life was Wahine Toa, a woman trained and skilled at hula and lua -- Hawaiian dance and martial arts. She traveled between O'ahu and the Salish coast for the first forty years of her life.

Stan Costa opened a small black box concealed in the curve of Mabelle. A small but powerful microphone dangled off a long slim wire. "Linda do you have a Ziploc bag I could use?" There were plenty left-over from the picnic. Stan wrapped the end of the wire and the microphone with the Ziploc bag. Being careful to keep Mabelle out of the water Stan asked for Casey's and Sara's help. The three of them lifted the Stand up Bass over the water, Stan dropped the plastic encased microphone into the water. Everybody waited. The sky continued to turn Apocalyptic. Stan pressed on the strings, and slapped. He made music.

Stan motioned to Shine, "Come over here." He pointed to the side of Mabelle. The girl crouched at the Bass's side. Her eyes closed and deep hums began. "Ah, oh, ah, ..... " Kohola, the great record keeper of all Human Time was sharing his record with the gathering of Humans on the beach of the Salish Shore. The Inbetween Girl was the first to hear these songs that night, but she was a Bean who knew the secret was in sharing. Ah ... listen ....

An upside-down sunset

There was always a stretch of beach. The deep cove and outlet from the natural watershed created a beautiful place where Birds hunted, conversed and mated. Fish Hawks were doing their incredible ballet hovering for the perfect dive for dinner below. The Sun was still in the low sky, but even he would sink into the horizon within the next couple of hours.

Stan and Shine pulled in behind the Molinas' Bakery van. Stan tried the door, Mabelle lay on the floor of the van. Linda had the doors locked, so the tall man and tiny girl carried the Watermelon and basket of Tomatoes to the beach. Stan whistled. Dumpling recognized the familiar trill of his call and waved.

Slates of cut and ocean-worn Trees piled and lined the beach. Many tides come and go over a year's cycle of Moon and Sun. Balancing with the Watermelon made things interesting for Stan. Shine was a girl, with fearless balance and agile feet. She bounced from log to log.

With sides of Trees for backrests an old quilt was laid with the goodies for a picnic. The water tempted Shine to its edges. Her mother joined her, and the two went barefoot into the later summer warmth of Salish Sea. Stan folded himself next to Dumpling. The two kissed. "Now where were we," the musician ran his hands through the waves of Dumpling's black and white curls. "Old people kissing on a summer beach. What would the neighbors say!" She wasn't prudish, that was a trait she'd traded up at thirty. A couple of teenagers weren't far from their blanket. One of them recognized Stan from the Farmer's Market. She blushed, Stan finished the one kiss, and winked in the girl's direction, then said, "Hey Casey." Rather than flee the girls headed right toward them.

"Hey Mr. Costa." Casey was one of three daughters who helped their parents -- also farmers -- at the Monday market. Come September the girls would be in school. Casey's family, old school, showed respect for elders: called Mr. or Mrs. or Uncle or Aunty. No first names. Affectionate displays? That was a different story, and always encouraged. So kissing Dumpling was a bright green light for Casey.

Stan introduced Dumpling, "Casey, this is my very good friend Dumpling Woman." Dumpling leaned into Stan and smiled one of her award-winners. "Glad to meet you Casey. And your friend?"

"This is my girlfriend, Sara Mott." The emphasis was on girl and with the extra squeeze of their hands it was clear these were young sweethearts. "How nice to meet you both." Stan and Dumpling meant that. "We're having a picnic, care to join us we've got plenty! And I know our friends will love the company." Stan had something very special to share with Linda Molinas, but it was the sort of thing that is not best if kept a secret. The spreading around of his findings was essential.

"Are you sure?" Casey didn't want to overstep her welcome.

"Oh course we're sure. And, aren't you the girl with that Sparrow Song voice and wicked fingers on the mandolin?" Stan was thanking the Guardians for the arrival of young women to add to this unexpected upside-down sunset. Shine saw the girls perch on the logs behind the quilt. Linda M saw them too, and wondered. Shine dispelled any fear that might have dulled the spark in her mother's eyes. She signed "Company for a picnic," and pulled her mother's hand in the direction of the growing party.

Along came a Spider

"Don't you love cellphones!" Dumpling picked up the little contraption. Stan was packing up, and asked whether he and Shine could meet at the public access beach walk at five-thirty. "That's great with us."

"Where are you?" Stan had an idea, but it involved some logistics. "I've got a helmet for Shine in the side-car she'll love the ride, but I wondered whether you and Linda would mind picking something up at your place? Mabelle."

"Well sure we could manage that. Hay, don't instruments need to be kept out of the salt air?"

Stan assured Dumpling her thoughtfulness was appreciated. "You're right of course, but, Mabelle loves a little salt and doesn't get nearly enough of it." Mabelle was the name of Stan's stand-up bass. "She used to play near white sandy beaches every weekend. Now? Not so much." Dumpling was giggling at the imagery of a very happy big 'ole hunk of wood in the arms of that musical botanist.

"I'm sold." She finally said. Stan promised to bring a bag of Roma Tomatoes and half a Watermelon. That would round out a late summer picnic. Linda could only guess at what was going on. She was content to be ignorant, her bare feet wiggling from the hammock in Dumpling backyard. There really was something to leisure time, and something Linda Molinas breathed in. It wasn't too late to flip the metaphoric or literal canoe, go for a swim. Refreshed. Hmm. Being a mother at sixty was gonna require being refreshed for the long haul. She wondered at the longevity of her genes. When Shine was 25 she'd be close to 80. What are the chances?

A big brown spider dangled from the same limb she did. Linda watched the slow fall speed up.
"There's always a chance," answered Spider. Linda M. considered the information her kiss for the day.

"Thank you, I suppose you'd know about chance," Remembering how often she'd see the hardworking Spiders setting up shop in the corners of the bakery when she was no bigger than Shine. A scene and conversation lay beside her in the hammock.
"Spider is Grandmother," her mom told her very early on.
"They're kinda scary looking," Linda was not a fearful little girl, but she wondered about things, like the difference between Spiders and People.
"Ever see your Poppa when he first gets up?" Mrs. M and her beautiful milk clear face and blonde waves wore her humor bright and could take the serious right out of a pickle if she wanted. She made a face to match the grumpiest Pop Molina in the early morning.
"Now THAT is scary darlin'. Spider is protection. Never ever hurt one. And, if by chance she bites you? Know there is something you don't know. Ask her, and if you're good at it you will hear a Spider answer."

Dumpling waved through the window flicking her ten fingers out and back twice. "Twenty minutes." Spider had done what she came to do, said what she was meant to say. Linda looked for Grandmother Spider, and her web. Gone.

Mabelle rode comfortable in the back of the bakery van. The sun was still far from setting, but it was a beautiful early evening. There was sliced Provolone, Black Forest Ham, a bowl of hard-boiled eggs, a loaf of Shepard's Bread and fresh-picked Peaches in the picnic basket, and a quart of vanilla ice cream surrounded with ice.

Market Time

The Monday Market was a street fair. Moon Light Farm Produce always set up under the loving arms of the Mama Maple. The beautiful fan of leaves was already starting to show signs of fall though it was just barely August. Still, there was a full familia of leaves and a gentle breeze to make beautiful Maple Music. It was one of Stan Costa's favorite sounds, the gentle rustle of wind through leaves.

The first hour was incredibly busy. Visitors and locals seemed to converge on the only Monday Farmers' Market on the island like hummingbirds to Spring's first Salmon Berries. Or, it was just Moon Light Farm Produce that pulsed with women circling the tall well-muscled musician with a liking for plants.

"You'd think the guy was giving away Medicinals!" Linda couldn't believe the line that stretched out from the Moon Light Farm Produce stand. Dumpling couldn't get within three-feet of the oil-cloth covered picnic tables decked with bushels of Beans, Corn, Kabocha squash, bright red-fleshed Watermelon slice and speckled with tears of black seeds. The two women had met as planned, an hour after the market started. But by 2:30 the crowd had not thinned, and if anything, more people waited to buy produce, or pepper Stan Costa with questions. Shine loved the crowds. With little hesitation she moved between the tiny man with cloth bags filled with tasseled ears of Corn, and the two women sipping lattes. She made her way around the picnic tables and stood at Stan's elbow. She tapped him. Stan had seen her weaving skillfully. "Nice moves," he said making sure Shine could read his lips. Shine held up her palm for a bump and high-five.

"Why couldn't I do that," Dumpling watched the girl make her move appreciating how Shine maneuvered.

Linda figured time with Stan would have to wait. She had the only free afternoon in almost twenty years to enjoy. She waved to her daughter, signaling her to join her. But Shine and Stan Costa had begun a show-and-tell bit that was difficult to interrupt, and even more difficult to interpret. A little dark haired dark eyed girl watched as customer's picked up Watermelon, Beans, Squash and shiny Garlic.

Every time a new plant food was picked up, Shine sang. Shine made a different song, a different sound for each plant. Stan noticed. From their vantage point three people away, Linda and Dumpling could see but not hear quite as well as Stan, Mo and the customers directly in front of the table.

"I think we've lost her to Stan the man. At least for the next couple of hours." Linda caught Stan's eye and made it clear she'd be back at 4 o'clock when the market ended.

"Is that okay?" Linda waited for Stan's answer.

Two thumbs way up! "See you then. Let's go watch the sunset. We'll bring dinner." Stan nodded.

A ring of a different kind

Dumpling looked at the time. Eight-thirty. She looked at the screen on her cellphone. Linda M's blonde braids fell over her shoulders. She picked up. "Well good morning to you. I hope you're still in bed. Which ... is where I am."

"Hi! Did you have a good time?" Linda sounded uncommonly drowsy, and happy.

"Good time. Yes, Stan just left so yes, I did."

"I mean the party you goose. Was it as much fun as it felt to me. Sixty, and I feel ... God, I feel amazing." A background sound, music filled in the space behind her friend's voice. Radio.

"Oh yes, the party was a total hit. And closing on a Monday! No collateral damage, or riot reports from the local police? Scone withdrawals." Dumpling slid back under the covers and plumped the pillow under her shoulders. "I couldn't help but notice how Shine can really keep a beat. I mean the girl needs a drum kit!"

Silence on the other end of the cellphone. But the music in the background was clearer now, not so much louder, but pitch perfect. "Linda? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Can you hear that voice in the background?"

"I was wondering about that, what station is that. Nice pipes. Sweet voice."

"It's Shine!" The silence shifted from that end to Dumpling's. "Your Shine. Our Shine. Shine's singing!"

"Yes, Shine sings. I mean, it's the first time I've heard her sing. Just this morning while we were snuggling in bed these sounds, vocalizations started coming. Her eyes were still shut."

"A - MAZING Grace." Dumpling was nodding synced with the sounds that were Shine's song which were not words as a human might call 'words' ... they were sounds.

"I was hoping to catch Stan before he left. Had a couple questions for him. About deaf or hard of hearing musicians he might know about. Music in general. Sounds in general. Sounds plants make." Linda was bubbling over the top.

"Whoooaa, Mama Linda. Slow that horse down girl. Stan's just out the door and probably in the gardens by now. Market starts at 1 so there's ..." She knew Stan's habits, but wasn't sure Linda did, so she reserved his privacy. "He'll be selling at the Market today, maybe you could catch him there?"

Linda hadn't thought about the Monday Market. Since she was always baking on Mondays this was a new thing, a new thing other people did on a Monday in the Summer. "Great idea. Should I call him and let him know we're coming down?"

"No need. The man's a natural with people and food plants. Just be willing to stick around and make time for his chatting folks up." Dumpling thought of all the women who were attracted to Moon Light Farm Produce when Stan Costa was there. "How about I join you and Shine. What time you thinking about?"

The women decided on two o'clock giving Stan the first hour, which was always the busiest, to do his magic storytelling. Linda signed the plan, Shine bee bopped her head liking the sound of this day. Her song took on the sounds of bees, bees making honey.

An everyday job

Stan Costa grew things. His everyday day was a little odd for a man of fifty, but he came by it honestly. Trained and field tested Stan Costa was also Stan Costa Ph. D. Doctor of Botany in his other life. No longer a strictly nine-to-five guy,  retired from the lecture hall and microscope Stan was a paid apprentice with the small and beautiful Moon Light Farm. Being late by an hour meant Bonnie and Mo would be in the fields harvesting for the Farmers' Market that started at 1 o'clock that afternoon. The sound of his Harley popped their capped heads up from pulling globes of Turnips and Candy Cane Beets. "Lover Boy's back." Mo Frank couldn't resist a long slow whistle in Stan's direction. For a grown man, blushing came easily.

"Sorry Bonnie, Mo. Lost track of the morning," Stan was still pink about the cheeks, speckled with stubble and yawning from lack of coffee. The caffeine could wait, and the women knew who he'd gotten lost with, and they approved.

"How's Dumpling Woman?" Mo asked her hands rich with dark earth.

"Lucky," chimed Bonnie. It was no secret there was more than a little envy in her. If she'd been smarter Bonnie could have been Mrs. Stan Costa years ago. Stan pretended not to hear that and moved to the circles of corn entwined with Scarlet Runner Beans. The beans were prime size for picking, just passed nibbling stage these would be delicious steamed whole or snapped and sauteed in butter and served with the Salmon just being caught from the beach.

Bushels for harvest were already set out on the benches. Stan ran his hands gently over and under the large heart-shaped leaves. "Morning girls. Nice work on the fruit. Very nice." The beans were almost six inches long and plump. "Thank you." Before all else Stan Costa always made time to remember everything in this world he was grateful for. Though he was an hour late for his day job, the Thanksgiving Address did come before all else.

Mo and Bonnie stopped their harvesting. The habit of gratitude was something they weren't facile with. They had a feeling it would grow on them. Bonnie noticed the effect after Stan had been growing things the first season. "A thirty-five pound Watermelon! (Won the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair) Turban Squash (Ditto on the ribbon) the size of a small cooler. Beans and Corn that grew with no loss to the aphids or borers," just to remember a few. While Bonnie and Stan were graduate students at Evergreen College Stan Costa was already growing the thesis that companion planting like the original Three Sisters style of First People gardening was a botanical and ethnological story he wanted to know intimately. His Portuguese and Hawaiian Ancestry bred curiosity and exploration, but more than that Stan Costa had the genetic memory of respect in tact.

Fifteen years later, in the dirt of the Moon Light Farm Bean and Corn witnessed, and listened. Stan began with recognizing the two women. Appreciating them, giving them thanks and ending by catching the women's eyes asking for their ascent. "Now our minds."  

The Thanksgiving Address was long. Stan left no one out. It was THE uncompromising requirement he made for his apprenticeship. During planting and harvest times Stan worked willingly and consistently for $11.00 an hour, and took one full day a week off. Long hours didn't wear him down, weather didn't wear him down. He was used to work. But always, every day, before all else the Words That Came Before All Else began his day.

Partly cloudy

Music and dancing lit the Molinas' Bakeries until midnight. For the first time ever, the bakeries were closed on Monday. No specials. No OPEN sign. Everyone enjoyed a day long holiday, with pay. Linda M. and her staff had planned ahead, orders were baked, boxed and bundled off to hungry sandwich lovers and scone maniacs on Friday and Saturday.

The mother and daughter Molinas kicked in a new tradition: Doing nothing. Like most habits, it wasn't easy for a baker to be in bed until after the sun rose. Linda M. calmed the urge, looked at her daughter who'd crawled in beside her and snuggled up to the warm brown face. Shine smiled, her eyes never blinked.

"Bakers do their best work in the dark." It was a Molina family joke. Dumpling rolled her eyes when she thought of the many meanings given the new information she'd become privy to. It wasn't difficult for her to be in bed until after the sun rose, and in fact it was one of her favorite times to be in bed. Stan Costa, musician, made it even easier.

"Does this tickle," long strong fingers crept under Dumpling's loose blue Aloha shirt, her nightie. Finding a funny bone wasn't difficult.

"Don't get me started," she teased, "or start something you can't finish." It was well into morning, the light through the eyelet curtain was butter yellow. Clouds had moved in after midnight. It was partly cloudy, but the sun was warming the day. Stan did have a day job, and it started an hour ago. He didn't have a day off with pay.

He was a worker bee, a guy who made money by the hour and he counted. "You're lucky. This job will have to continue tonight." Stan had his hands out from under Dumpling's shirt, and his pinkie was hooked for a promise. "Deal?"

"Oh, I've got a pretty tight schedule. Opportunities knocking left and right."

"I'll make it worth your while. Dinner and a movie, and pineapple upside cake for dessert with a side of musician. I'll cook. You choose the movie. You can help me make the cake." Two nights in a row would be unusual for Dumpling and Stan. They kept plenty of space between 'em and it worked for them. Still ... changing your mind about something seemed to be the talisman of the times. Dumpling stuck out her right pinkie, Stan hooked his with hers and pulled.

"Deal," they both said. After a long and very satisfying good-bye kiss Stan Costa had his jeans belted, clean shirt, socks and baseball cap in place. His boots were outside, and his Harley waited for his touch. Stan secured the cover for the side-car. The bass was safe with Dumpling.

Dumpling's phone rang as soon as the door closed behind him.