My computer is in the corner of the living room, next to the front door and facing NE. Looking out through the screen door, I see the porch where my Woodstock windchimes hang, positioned to catch the tradewinds. In the yard, I can see the three tires I painted white, filled with potting soil and planted with flowers. The one nearest the road has peppermint stick zinnias, the middle one is planted with 4 O'Clocks and stock. The one nearest the porch is cosmos. Just the other side of the tires is a small bed planted with radishes and two cherry tomato plants. Until last week, there were three, but the neighborhood free range chickens massacred one of them. Just beyond the tomatoes, the yard takes a sharp dip. There is a lemon tree on the edge of the dip. A barbwire fence seperates the property from the narrow semi-paved road. Every other fencepost has sprouted branches, refusing to give up life. Across the lane, I can see my neighbor's mango tree and the hill continues downward for 300 yards before sloping upward again. Sometimes, if the neighborhood is quiet I can hear the surf beating on the north shore, about a mile from here. Everywhere I look I see jungle growth and the occasional bright green iguana, blue skies and white puffy clouds. This morning, the sun was shining through the rain.