My area of northern California is sub-tropical. Meaning, you can grow tender things like citrus and hibiscus most of the time, but then a freeze comes along and you’re back in the 1-gallon department of the garden center.
Hawaii is the tropics proper, where plants you think of as indoor/greenhouse babies rioting twenty feet high. Croton in all its wildly colorful forms grows along the roadsides, vines with two-foot leaves lay claim to telephone poles. Shiny coffee grows wild in the corners.
The temptation is great, to consider sub-tropical a flexible definition. So I was thinking, maybe next to the house, I could manage a plumeria, one of those weird bare trees that sprout leaves and lei-flowers at the ends of their fat branches.
Surely the cold wouldn’t be so cruel as to kill one of those, would it?
Leaving the Big Island today for Maui, which is either the best of all the islands or completely spoiled by development, depending on who’s talking. If it doesn’t rain for the entire ten days, I’ll be happy.