The evening before Iselle

It rained here in Holualoa a few hours ago for about 15 minutes and has been strangely still since. This sleepy village sits some 1,300 feet above sea level, yet there is barely a breeze at the present moment. The only sound is the chirping (it isn't really a croaking) of the Coqui frogs.

About 6:45 p.m. (almost an hour and a half ago), I happened to look out the kitchen window and was surprised to see a beautiful sunset:

After the Noon Mass, the transitional deacon and I headed out to make two visits to very ill parishioners who asked to be anointed with the Oil of the Sick. We returned to the parish about 3:00 p.m. and already within those four hours, cabin fever set in. I've never been a patient waiter and decided to go for a evening walk while one could still be had. It could be a very long couple of days, especially since I do not know anyone on this island (at least not yet).

As the sun was setting over the Big Island, the moon was rising over Holualoa. At this moment, hurricane Iselle still has not made landfall on the east side of the island. The storm seems to be weakening and no longer has an eye. While this is promising, we still aren't, as it were, out of the woods yet.