“A Taste of Nature’s Treasure”The coconut tree

Hello dear Hivers!

I hope you’re all doing well. Today, I’ll be sharing one of my favorite parts of homestead life our coconut harvest

.When I think about home, the first picture that comes to my mind is not the house itself, but the tall coconut tree that stands proudly beside it. It’s been there for as long as I can remember taller than every other tree around, its long green leaves dancing gently with every passing breeze.That tree means more to me than just fruit. It represents the quiet rhythm of homestead life the early mornings, the laughter of family, and the simple joys that nature gives without asking for much in return.

Every time I visit my grandma, the first thing I notice is the sound of rustling coconut leaves. It’s like the tree is welcoming me back home. The air around it always smells fresh and earthy, especially after rain. The soil there is soft, and sometimes, you can see little seedlings growing where the old coconuts have fallen and split open.Grandma loves that tree deeply. She often says, “Coconut tree is like a mother it gives, but never asks for anything in return.” And truly, she’s right. Every part of the coconut tree has its use. Nothing is ever wasted. The leaves are used to make brooms and woven into thatched roofs. The husk becomes fuel for the kitchen fire, and the hard shell is turned into cups or spoons. Even the roots are sometimes boiled for traditional medicine.

Last month, I helped my uncle harvest some coconuts. He climbed up the tall tree with a rope tied around his waist, using his bare feet for grip. I stood below, watching carefully as he twisted the ripe brown coconuts until they dropped with a heavy thud. Each time one fell, dust would rise, and I would run to pick it up. We gathered about twelve coconuts that morning, and it felt so rewarding the kind of satisfaction that only comes from working with your hands.When we got back to the kitchen, Grandma split one open with her cutlass. The moment the shell cracked, clear, sweet coconut water spilled out. She poured some into a cup and handed it to me. “Taste it,” she said with her gentle smile. It was cold and delicious, the kind of sweetness that no drink from a shop can match. I drank it slowly, enjoying every drop, while Grandma scraped out the white flesh with her knife.

Later that day, she decided to make coconut oil, something she had done since she was young. I helped her break the remaining coconuts, grate the flesh, and squeeze out the milk. It was hard work, but there was joy in every moment. She poured the thick coconut milk into a pot and began heating it over a firewood stove. The aroma that filled the air was amazing warm, nutty, and comforting. Slowly, the oil began to form, shimmering golden on the surface. Grandma looked at me and said, “This is why I love coconut; it gives us food, oil, and beauty.”

When the oil was ready, she filtered it into a glass jar. That oil is like treasure in her home. She uses it for cooking, for her skin, and even for her hair. Sometimes she rubs a little on her hands and says proudly, “This one is pure no chemicals, no additives, just nature’s gift.”In the evening, we sat under the same tree where the day began. The air was cool, and the sun was setting behind the hills. Grandma told stories about how her own mother planted that tree when she was a little girl. She said that one coconut planted with care can serve a family for generations. It struck me deeply how something as simple as a tree could hold so many memories, feed so many mouths, and bring such peace.

As I looked up at the branches, swaying gently in the evening light, I thought about how much the coconut tree has taught me. It teaches patience because it grows slowly, but steadily. It teaches giving because it provides everything without holding back. And it teaches endurance because even when storms come, it bends, but rarely breaks.Every time I drink coconut water or see the oil glistening in a bottle, I’m reminded of those quiet days in Grandma’s homestead. The laughter, the smell of coconut milk cooking, the feel of sand under my feet all of it lives in my memory like a sweet song.

The coconut tree is more than just a plant to us. It’s part of our story a reminder that nature provides everything we need if we care for it well. And every time I visit home, I always sit under that tree, close my eyes, and whisper a quiet thank-you for the blessings it continues to give.