Two riders were approaching, and the wind begins to howl.....
The howling winds of February visited many parts of Guanacaste with a level of damage that made you sit up and take note. One neighbor lost a temporary house. Branches and whole trees were down everywhere and green mangoes literally carpeted the yards and streets. In the next town an elderly gent had his morning routine interrupted when the outhouse blew away from around the throne.
For me it has been a windfall of sorts. One the one hand it provides a convenient excuse to harvest all the bananas that were almost ready anyway. On the other, wherever a tree came down or a big branch snapped, there's a new space on the ground, or a bit more light that will get through the canopy. It's just a question of figuring out what to plant.
If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem
Last month I recounted a lifelong odyssey of environmental learning that led to putting down roots in Guanacaste. (Environmentalist to developer-an Eco-logical Progression, The Howler.......) The surprise in store was the speed at which the sprawling development I thought I had left far behind would catch up with me. I had no idea that tropical tracts, Mediterranean-style MacMansions and neo-New Mexico condos would come to replace the fields and forests of my adopted paradise.
Learning to think like a watershed
Admit it. Rumors can be a great source of local information.
The earth turns to gold in the hands of the wise-Rumi, Persian mystic
My intent was to write a piece on the changing seasons. After all, it is a great time to see how your land survived the 10 feet of rain, decide whether you really want to water all those plants all summer long and begin to plan for the next possible deluge.
