Pipe Lines of Kaimu: Prologue

The orbiting host of a forenoon sky claims a sunny day. They are attributed for the better part of each year, primarily affecting the island's leeward side. On its windward side, periodic downpours from time to time yield a measurable output, and at times when hurricane season befalls the islands, the impact can be considerably dangerous. Kalapana, being at the southwestern tip of the island, fronts these errant extremes, being wards of the weathering phenomenon. The coastal lowlands offer a sense of balance for the natural flow of Tradewinds that constants the region. It is the age of me that I can be in the care of me, amidst puree waves of some distant unspooling, albeit that our times are ingrained in unburied pleasures ... so we are at the place, and we are at the time, for me being of myself, as generous episodes forward the instant, as slight memories flicker its return. A doorway opens, and the Hawaiian term that is uttered at this point is, "I'm going 'Holoholo'" or basically, "I'm 'heading out'" Our Hawaiian grandmother is finger water-hosing her assorted colorful flowering hibiscus bushes that front the Kalapana house. Finger-hosing, as it's called, stems the water pressure as it lightly nourishes the delicate blooms. Our Hawaiian grandfather spends most of his time either on his bed or lounging in his chair, also by the bedside. Grandpa bides his time, smiling at us in our close passing by of him. Other family members will tend to him often, but usually, it'll always be grandma at his side, having their many conversations in the Hawaiian language. Our hunting dogs are bound to their dog houses that are bound to the coconut trees that surround the house. It's moments like this, when in the course of my goings and comings, sometimes the doghouses suffer because of the Rockweiler, the St. Bernard, the Caucasian Shepherd, and the Pit Bull's determination to topple me to the ground to see who can lick my face the more with their doggie tongue dribbling's. Yuck! A noted factor is that their pounce of me is mostly separable. They cannot ever converge together, or hell will break loose. After all, they are hunting dogs. There are natural spring wells in the back of the house. They are fed by natural underground labyrinths that have been carved out by rapid movements of molten lava creating these lava tubes. The likelihood would be caused by the two mountain tops whenever they are covered in snow. Our house is on the mountainside of the main lane road. Across from that lane, is where the sea is located just after the few homes that dot along that side of the main lane road.