Yesterday I was checking out the little kukui tree I planted in the zen garden. It's growing quickly, which has been a surprise. I planted it where, for about 65 years, there was an asphalt driveway, and under the asphalt was a jumble of lava rock, the residue from digging the house's foundation. I dug a large hole, and as I did I unearthed a rock with what must have been some kind of paint-putty mixture on it. I stuck my (gloved) finger into the red and white substances and they were soft. I found that so hard to accept that I called over Elika, my Tongan wall builder, to confirm it. He did. I have no good explanation. The asphalt cap and hardened soil weren't airtight.
But back to the kukui. I noticed that each leaf had a pair of small reddish globes -- well, more oblate than globular -- at the end of the stem. I don't know what their function is, but they were striking. So I decided to shoot kukui leaves, weather permitting. This kukui has unusually large leaves, compared to the others we've planted. It must be a different variety (there are several).
The weather was good, but the sun was bright. I wanted to compose on the camera's LCD screen rather than through the eyepiece, but there was too much sun. I should have asked Ruth to take a picture of me imitating a view-camera photographer, black cloth over my head and the camera. Actually, it was a Marmot down sweater, ready to go into vacuum storage until we go to the Mainland, which must have made the sight even sillier.
I made a few typical leaf shots. They were OK, but were just frontal shots of leaves, with the little red pieces hard to see. That would have been all right, I guess, as a surprise. But all the images said to me "yet another Hawaiian leaf shot . . . " which was boring.
So I shot from the back, and here's the result.