IWTFY: Count on a dandelion

When I'm with you
I'll make every second count
'Cause when I'm without you
I'll be counting every second.
_______________________

I've always wanted to be a better writer. I am just not that good with creative writing nor composing poetry. There's just something about being able to put words together and play with the way they sound, and what they mean that I truly appreciate. I guess it is mostly because I can't seem to do it right, and my Creative Writing for Dummies hasn't done a lot to change the way I write.

That said, I started reading and appreciating I Wrote This For You which I learned about from one of Nella's links. There are some real good stuff there that you should check out. The tag and premise of the blog goes,

"I need you to understand. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it doesn't get it. They may think they get it, but they don't. This is the sign you've been looking for. You were meant to read these words."

I heard this old sappy love song that inspired the above verse. I got mixed reviews. Like I said, creative writing is not easy. It is difficult to not try feeling like The Sphinx from Mystery Men.



Some of his classic lines go like this:

"He who questions training, only trains himself at asking questions."

"When you doubt your powers, you give power to your doubt."

"When you care what is outside what is inside cares for you."

"We are number one. All others are number two or lower."

Classic! I need to watch that movies again. Soon.

Ti napu.

The Beachcomber

P.S. Oh, my sketch is of a mature dandelion flower down to its last seed. We don't have daffodils here but I like the idea of making a wish while you blow the seeds off. I wonder if we have something similar here in Micronesia? Ill have to share with you about Tabebuia rosea later.

Coccoloba: The Sea Grapes

I've been watching the Sea grapes (Coccoloba uvifera) at Micro Beach, Saipan for a few weeks now and finally, some of the fruits have ripened. The trees are pretty tall and we didn't have a ladder nor a long stick to harvest the fruits, so Laurina and I resorted to picking the good ones from the grassy ground below. Don't they look appetizing? Sea grapes are plum-like in taste, sweet and a little tart, although there really isn't a lot of flesh in between the rough edible skin and the seed. It's a nice snack though when you're on the go boonie stomping or beachcombing. There are still a lot of fruit clusters that are in the process of ripening.. Try some, but if you're picking the fruits from the ground, you'll have to contend with the ants and give the fruits a quick rinse in fresh water. It was Laurina's first time trying them and she quickly became a fan.

Here are some unripe fruits. Uvifera is Latin for "bearing clusters of grapes" and they actually do look like grapes hanging from the trees. I read somewhere that people actually make wine out of sea grapes in the Caribbean Islands (a traditional Christmas drink) and others like to make jam since they are high in pectin (a gelling ingredient). It is supposedly one of the first beach plants Christopher Columbus encountered in that region.

The trees can grow up to 15 M (50 ft) and the leaves are leathery and attractive. Can you see the red veins of the round leaf? The Coccoloba's leaves turn red to brown as they mature making them a favorite subject for painters. Terry Denson has beautiful watercolors here. Sea grapes also inspire poetry and you can read the famous poem by 1992 Nobel Laureate in Literature Derek Walcott's poem by the same name here. In Bev's Scattered Thoughts, she writes about how she will soon change the title and layout of her blog. Denson's poem mentions the sea-wanderer, and I thought how perfect that name would be for me if and when I finally leave my beloved islands for a new place away from the waters of the deep blue sea.
Here's a picture of an early flower cluster from a small tree on top of the Forbidden Island look out in March. The trees were shrub-like and maybe too young still to fruit since the flowers were withered when I went back to the spot in July.

Ti napu.

The Beachcomber (and the future Sea-wanderer)