Wild Weather

My dream in coming to Jamaica, outside of course from spending quality time with my darling daughter, was to escape winter. I had visions of coming home to no more snow, my uggs in storage, and warming temperatures. Doesn't look like that will be happening now in Philadelphia, suddenly the snow capitol of the world.

We've been having our bout of weird and wild weather here in Treasure Beach. Not that I'm complaining, I'm still able to work on my tan. The other night we woke up around 3 to an sound and light show--an incredible thunder and lightening storm which roared overhead for a good hour or so and set the ocean roaring at top volume. We huddled in our bed wondering if a tidal wave was going to be rushing in over the veranda any minute to wash us out to sea.

Ever since then, the skies haven been clear and sunny but the wind has been blowing at top speed and nights have been positively Maine-like in temperature. Beautiful.

Daily LIfe in Treasure Beach

So what else have I been doing except swimming in the sea, reading on the veranda or lawn and just generally lolling around?

Well, two days ago I accompanied Liz on her travels for work looking at potential sites for the organic farming project she is managing here. We rode up beautiful winding roads to the hills of Malvern where the temperature was remarkably cooler and the views over the valleys spectacular. Then two days ago we drove towards Montego Bay to meet with the owner of an ackee farm who happens to be the dad of two of Liz's good friends in New York. Armed with a machete, Mr. Masters led us on a tour of his property, acres and acres of akee trees. We left with a bag of ripe otaheite apples picked from other fruit trees on his land. Juicy and delicious with bright red skin and white flesh and a large black stone, the otaheite apple is the Snow White of fruit. On our way back to Treasure Beach we stopped to give seeds to a rasta farmer Liz knows. He complimented me by saying I looked "fresh" as a result of my vegetarian diet. Okay!

I love watching Liz at work and how she interacts with all then different people she deals with. She speaks patois fluently, to me an amazing feat. I can't understand a word and so do a lot of nodding and smiling when conversation is suddenly directed to "mommy" as I am always called by Jamaicans I meet with Liz.

The last two mornings Liz and I have taken long walks together early in the morning before the sun is too intense for physical activity. The first day we wandered down back roads where we counted over 30 smashed bullfrogs on the road in varying states of fossilization. Every field and many yards have goats roaming around. School kids in uniform--the boys in khaki like little soldiers, the young girls in kelly green skirts and crip white shirts--are headed off to their day at school.

It's a nice way to start the day and justifies the ridiculous amount of time I spend lolling around the rest of the day.

Moral Complexity

Ta-Nahisi Coates is one of my regular stops on the internet. He's a blogger for The Atlantic who writes about politics, music, history, poetry, sports, whatever gets him thinking. He writes beautifully and is often thought provoking in a really good way. . . like today:

The inability of water-boarding's supporters to come out and say, "Yes it's torture, and yes it's awful, but here's why we have to do it," is the corollary of death penalty advocates who can not bring themselves to admit that innocent people will die. I don't know that I agree with Obama's predator drone strikes. But at least we don't go around pretending only "bad people" will be killed, and that there are never mistakes.

You probably can't convince me to support torture. But I don't ask for a society that does everything I think is best. I ask for a society that doesn't deceive itself. I don't think I agree with dropping the bomb on Japan. (I think it qualifies as what we, today, call terrorism.) But I get the argument. And it's important that I get the argument. It's important that I'm able to put myself in Truman's shoes, and in those shoes, not have any certain idea of what I would have done.

We need more moral complexity in our lives.

Necessary Clarification

Pella is a dog. A very adorable grey weineramer puppy with ice blue eyes. Liz and Giul are obsessed. And Steve and I are making friends. Who would have thought? I tried to upload photos but internet here in Treasure Beach is suspect. Take my word, she's beautiful and charming with a great personality. Between her and Muscles, Mo's handsome and sweet Rhodesian ridgeback, we are blessed.

Treasure Beach

At the risk of appearing way smug and self satisfied, I must confess that I am blissfully enjoying doing absolutely nothing in sunny and warm Treasure Beach, Jamaica. I feel a little bit like a refugee from a war zone having endured two blizzards in one week but I'm happy to report that I am not suffering from post tramatic stress disorder. The sun and the sea and rum and ting are remarkably healing.

We are living in Shakti Home, a charming cottage right on the beach about a 15 minute walk from Liz and Giul's little house. We are being waited on by Audrey, an amazing cook, and Sheldon, whose main job, it seems is to bring Steve fresh coconut water every day.

We go to sleep lulled by the sound of the sea. Steve takes a morning dip in the ocean. We sit on the veranda and watch the sun move across the sky. Last night's sunset was amazing. My biggest decision is what to read next. I am dutifully speed reading my way through "The Guns of August" and looking forward to a fat, juicy novel next.

I have met Pella, the newest member of our family, and have totally bonded. Liz and Giul are very good parents but then she is an adorable child.

Out of Here!

I am so ready to go: Legs waxed, toes painted, hair colored, enough sunscreen packed to coat one large white person and one smallish white person for a month, a small library of books to read while sitting outside looking at the ocean and sipping some delicious fruit and rum concoction. I am ready to bare my legs, show my stomach and complain about hot it is.

Snowbound

It's 8 o'clock Thursday night and it's still snowing. The city is eerily quiet and beautifully white. I've spent the day holed up in my study doing puzzles, reading, surfing the internet and listening over and over again to Sade's new album (I like it!) and wondering when it would be time to have a glass of wine. Four clock, too early, five o'clock, better not but six o'clock, YES! If I were in Maine where it's not snowing (isn't that weird) I'd be sitting in front the fire, reading, doing puzzles and eating pretzels. Fortunately, we have no pretzels here. Steve ate them all.

It's hard to believe but on Monday, we head down to Jamaica for a month in the sun. Jamaica, even the idea of Jamaica, seems very far away now that we are in full winter wonderland mode. Just imagine: I'll soon be wearing shorts and a tshirt, swimming in the warm ocean, sleeping under an mosquito net. Seems an impossible dream right now.