"I had a farm in Africa… (ehem) I mean Molokai"

The most hated day of all days here on Miller Molokai is weed whacking day.
On this day one of us must don the awful machine and walk through the surrounding brush to tame back the encroaching weeds.

What ultimately happens is that miniscule bits of rock, dirt and debris are propelled at high speeds towards your face and limbs leaving cuts and scratches galore while sweat trickles down your spine and your back screams out in pain all in a vain attempt to make the unruly grass disappear.

I don't like weed whacking.
I am not very good at it either which also increases my intense (can I say loathing, yes I can say loathing) LOATHING of it!

Fortunately for me I have a Sasafras-cas who I send out to do this chore.

Sasafras-cas is not very good at weed whacking either.
What she does have going for her is a wild imagination which can turn any menial task into some sort of adventure. When challenged by an activity, she will cast herself as the hero or heroine of some cultural expedition, assume the identify of a National Geographic Explorer, or create a drama so exciting that even weed whacking (most hated of hates, most loathed of all loath'ed) will become something as important as the search for the Holy Grail.

(Side Note: Sasafras-cas is obsessed with Indiana Jones movies and dreams of one day starring in a new trilogy called Indiana Jane where she recreates the three films in exact detail but with one added accoutrement; boobs.)

On more than one occasion I have seen her prowling through the brush (on an errand to check the sprinkler heads and make sure the barking dear have not eaten through them*) talking to her individual camera in a Steve Irwin-ish voice. She will look down at the deer poop as she gestures for the camera to zoom in as she explains the danger of these ferocious blood-sucking beasts. "Careful. They might bite your head off… if you're lucky!"

*(I want to clarify that the barking deer are not part of Sasafras-cas's wild imagination. They are real and they do eat through the sprinklers. The notion of them being of a vampirical nature, however, has not been proven.)

Right now we are reading "Out of Africa" which could not be anymore up Sasafras-cas's alley. She'll go out into the Papaya Plot in the morning just as the sun is hitting the budding leaves. With the wind in her hair she'll get a far off dreamy look in her eyes and whisper in her best Meryl Streep-ish voice: "I had a farm in Africa."

When Sasafras-cas has to weed whack she will again transport herself to early 1900's Africa where she alone, a woman, a baroness no less, must save her coffee plantation from drought and disease.

It really helps her get through the day and when she comes in from the "fields", covered in dirt, sweat and grime, her eyes sparkle underneath her straw hat as if she holds secrets that which she will never tell. I just love that about her.

The only problem that I have with Sasafras-cas's overactive imagination is what she does with the sounds of the night. Here in the quiet of Miller Molokai all you hear are the waves, the wind, and an occasional palm tree branch scratching the roof.

She hears these things, puts them into the movie set that is her mind and spits out a horror story unfit for the most seasoned viewer. When this happens I make Sas don her most strong, fearless character and shout; "Be ye Beast or Man, Respect the Treaty!"

This "treaty" states that "they" (the mysterious sound makers) can do what they want outside the confines of our Castle (ehem, I mean cottage) as long as they don't try to get in.

Living in the middle of nowhere means that you have to draw up these invisible contracts with nature. If you don't, you could loose your mind.

And truth be told… we have a pretty loose grip on that one to begin with.