Looks quite likely that we won't get to eat One white sapote this season. Not one. By this time of year we are usually filling up five gallon buckets for market, cleaning and freezing bunches for white sapote/coconut wafers, and hand picking the most golden, ready to fall off in your hand, just soft enough to eat gush of the sweet life. So very rich, so very creamy and so very delish. Ah, those were the days. This is now two out of the past three years that multi-species hordes of nocturnal fruit piercing moths have targeted the rancho. They are working on the loquats, jaboticaba, surinam cherry, figs and YES, the mangoes. I know this has been a topic of blogville for awhile now and that's because there are so many layers of data available on a number of micro and macro levels that have you running mental marathons to wrap your arms around it. Bottom line, them or us. So what works. Lets say one left a few sapote trees for "bait" and moved more expansively into those crops that seem immune to the critter like, avo's, mac nuts and more avo's and mac nuts 'cause as far as I can tell, those are the only two things that have thus for resisted these red eyed spawn of some entomological hell world. Oh yeah, chayote also seems immune to the vampire like allure. Its quite likely that one could live off chayote, goats milk and nutella. So what's a good little permaculturist to do? a. retire and get a life.                                                                                                                                                                            b. spend savings on a candy apple red metalflake Maserati. c. parade around the world with a svelt blonde glued to side. d. grow fish. Huh? come again. Grow Fish. So we've embarked on the completion of the "lower" pond which will hold our stock of Tilopia. Ah, Tilopia, that wonderful bulletproof fish that thrives and happily produces pound after pound of flaky, tender white flesh while providing hours of leisure fun for kids of all ages. We've thrown in a bunch of Koi as well in the hopes they will start breeding and providing us with some sellable stock and hours and hours of enjoyment watching them glide care free beneath. I remember well hanging out by the pond with Tyler when he was a stripling. We'd bait the hooks with fish food pellets, set the weight and bobber and let er' rip. Sometimes we'd go out in the inflatable and just float around with lines dangling, caring less. Nice to have those lazy summer daze to look forward to. There's already talk of rope swings and such. Venison barbecue anyone? While the loss of a season of fruits is never a pleasant affair, turns out that in the big pic these events just point to more diversity. So I'm thinking we just cut all the trees and put up cell phone towers. Those suckers lease for the big jing and i've already ordered lead lined clothing. Along with the fish, eggs and a few avo's and mac nuts we should do just fine. Had some major fun doing a bit of music with the wonderful fellas of the Brown Chicken Brown Cow string band. I've watched these young players for years. They've been coming to Maui for some time now and each and every time they come back they shine from the polish they've put on their playing. They've been joined by the harmonica wonder, Kat who, unfortunately left for the mainland before being able to put a track down. Might be able to patch one in when she returns. So I was at Charlie's watching their show a couple of months back and flashed that this is the perfect back up band to use when re-recording The Ballad of the Bust. Checked in with them recently and the idea sounded good, so we rolled from there. Simple tune, so one rehearsal had us prepped for a live recording session which happened at my house in a very relaxed atmosphere. Joined by a great young video guy name of Parker we proceeded to goof off for a few hours and make some memories. I will say here and now that Zander, Orion, Justin and Matt were perfect for the job and provided the  energy necessary for smooth running. Having written the song about forty years ago there was a certain closing of a loop that felt superb. Part of the inspiration to re make the tune was that a friend of mine had told me that Solomon Lee (subject of song) was retired and working at the Pukalani golf course. "Getoutahea", I coughed. Found out he was on a couple of days a week as the cart guy. So I went down one day and walked up to him and said, "are you the famous Solomon Lee?" To which he guffawed, "well, I don't know if I'm famous". To which I replied, "yes you are, I made you famous". To which he blurted, "Pollock?!!" Went on to one of the most pleasant conversations I've ever had with a known nemesis. Here's the funny part. When I came back in after looping the course, he comes over to me and asks, "do you remember the last time we saw each other?" "Yes I do", I replied. So dig this, here's a guy I haven't seen in nearly forty years and we both have the memory of that moment emblazoned in our brains, enough so that he thinks to ask me about it. The scene was this. I was cruising over to a friends house to return some schwagg they had given me to try to sell. It was crap. Had to go back. So I pull up in my vw bus, grab a garbage bag with five or six pound of herb and, santa like start up the path to the house when out the front door comes my friend who raises her hands and says, "not now, not now, go away". Those words yield an automatic response, and it is not, "what do you mean, I have your pot right here." Nor is it, "o.k. I'll just leave it on the sidewalk." The appropriate response is to turn around and walk casually but rapidly back to vw bus and tool on out of there. So this is what I am proceeding to do when I hear the voice, freezing me in my tracks. "Hey........... Pollock". I turn my head slowly and see Solomon standing on the porch. We have a "moment" after which he raises his right hand, smiles and waves at me. l waved back, boarded my bus and cruised on down the road. Only goes to show that music can melt away all differences creating harmonies, invisible and inaudible that cannot be  denied. So get your kid into an instrument. You never know, he or she might turn out to be a criminal. The more you show, the more we'll grow. peace, Jp