THE LAVA landscapes in Hawaii's Volcanoes National Park are quite aesthetic- ally stimulating. On a memorable evening, I watched, in the twilight, red lava roll down into the ocean. The seashore on which I stood had literally been made only a few months before. Here was more land flowing forth; I knew something of how the world was made. Next morning, overlooking a dormant crater, steaming with sulphurous fumes, I noticed flowers and a little food. These were offerings made to Pele, a goddess who dwells in Kilauea volcano, placating her to stop the flow. Contrast my understanding with this native.
