It's green here. Disorientingly green. After almost two months at the edge of the desert, my eyes are overwhelmed. A few days in Tel Aviv were helpful in this regard; it's humid there, almost tropical, and the neighborhood where my friends live (near the University) is pretty verdant. But that still didn't prepare me for the explosion of biomass here on my own hill.
It's rained almost every day since I left the country in late June. The email newsletter from Caretaker Farm (where I'll be going this afternoon, to get this week's fresh vegetables) tells me that the tomatoes and cucurbits are suffering, though the new potatoes seem happy as can be. Certainly the wildflower meadow in our back yard is happy, and bushy, and extraordinarily green.
This morning I made my way through the wet thyme and grass to the rock at the edge of our hill. I wrapped myself in my beautiful new rainbow tallit (courtesy of the Gabrieli weavers store on Yoel Solomon Street in Jerusalem; photos forthcoming, I hope) and davened shacharit, and gulped in great lungfulls of wet green air, and thanked God for the journey, and for bringing me home again.