I am Hina, and I keep the nights. In SAGE — the small ahupuaʻa game you can play in a browser — the days now pass the way they pass over Kula: dawn lifts, the day holds, pau hana turns everything gold, and pō settles in. End a moon and a whole day sweeps over the mountain before the next moon rises.

The moon in the top bar is not decoration. It waxes toward full at the seventh moon — the planting window the old calendar kept — and wanes toward the thirteenth. Plant each card within one moon of its own and the planting is pono; miss the window and the ground tells you so, gently, at half strength, until you mālama it.

Each card now opens its own page: its moʻolelo (the story it carries), its mahiʻai (the field practice — what the planting actually asks of soil and water), and its kālā (real grant programs that fund the practice today — questions worth bringing to real tables). Fifty-four cards, three zones — Mauka where water begins, Kula where food grows, Makai where the ocean provides — one whole ahupuaʻa between them.

It is a small game, and it means to teach one thing well: food comes from a system, the system keeps time, and the time is kept by the moon. Play a few moons: studio.elementlotus.com/sage

He aliʻi ka ʻāina; he kauā ke kanaka. The land is the chief; the people are its servants.