Last year on Sept. 21 I purchased a farm in PR. When I first walked it, I immediately fell in love with the natural warmth of the forest of high canopy, bamboo, bananas, coffee and fruit trees. It was an immersion in the natural world that we rarely get to experience anymore. It struck me how quiet it was of man-made sounds. Hummingbirds, bats, bees, snakes, dove...the rocking chair creeking of 50 year old bamboo stands.

On the day that I drove to the Cooperativa, I was on clouds. My dream was coming true. I was opening a new chapter in my pursuit of tropical agrigulture, gardening, and island living. It would be a while before I could live there permanently, but at least I could get started and most importantly dream and plan. I successfully closed on the farm, despite coinciding with El Gran Apagon. The island wide blackout of 2016. That night the Milky Way was there to greet me like I had never seen before. A true celestial celebration.

The first night in the house was quite the adventure. While having my first beer, the previous tenant came walking in with his tambourine...el raton. I chased him out with a machete and finished my beer. Candles lit, I sat with y 6 pack of Medalla, machete, and spot light waiting for the little bastards to poke their noses into the casa. "Hay un nuevo jefe, ratones. Deja la casa. No es tu discoteca ahora!" I managed some couple of hours of sleep, falling asleep to the gentle purr of the owls, and woke up with the proud call of El Gallo around 4:30 am. I walked out to see where the rats were entering and was greeted by a large family of bats living in the frond of the giant Royal Palm out back of the house that hadn't completely fallen. The bats came so close to me that I could feel the wind of their wings on my shoulders and back. I never felt threatened, but rather welcomed and embraced. Thus the farm was named. Finca Murcielago de la Madrugada. Yes, it's a mouth full, but it has a killer story.

Since embarking on the journey, I have been welcomed and embraced by all of the island's locals. I was able to visit the property 4 times, accomplishing some major goals in pursuit of the vision. I've felt the magic of the farm and the island. I've come to know the house, like one would know a grandmother by sitting with her and listening to her gentle voice. I've studied the farm and the plantings of a generation past, as one sees the work of his grandfather. As such, I could not have prepared myself for the sadness of seeing the destruction of Maria in photos I received this week. I spent an evening with a rum in my hand and tears welling in my eyes as I mourned the loss of a connection to the past.

The farm keys came with a Virgin Mary pendant. Some irony that a storm named Maria would create a blank canvas for me on the anniversary of buying the farm. I plan to go down to complete demolition in November, as I had already planned to show the farm to a good childhood friend and my only brother. In the coming months I will be returning to rebuild and replant. If any of you have garden/plant skills, construction skills, or just want to camp and feel a beautiful piece of earth, please let me know. I'll announce my following trips.

Here are some photos.

















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If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the precipitate.