harvest, cold and heat,
summer and winter, day and night will never
cease.
years, our relationship to The Land continues to grow deeper and more profound.
and headed north. We sadly left good friends, a warm community and a vibrant
urban scene filled with culture, gastronomy and convenience.
irritability and stress of living in a highly populated area, honking horns,
parking challenges and sticky, sweaty humidity.
vistas where the air is crisp and eagles surf the wind stream. We are blessed
with seeing the sunrise peeking above one mountain and later dipping behind another,
streaking tangerine across the horizon. Nights are strangely intense – silent save
for cricket song against an open black sky speckled with planets and stars.
We have a large, sun-filled yard that begsfor a vegetable garden – my dream. As soon as I unpacked the house, out came
the trowel and the seeds. We first collected wood pallets and made a composter,
then added our kitchen scraps. It felt so good, healthy and wholesome.
One morning, I visited my composter with new food scraps and realized that it
too had its own nocturnal visitors. The entire structure was upended as if it had
been tossed into the air, spun around then trampled on. We looked at it with
our city eyes: Vandals? Emboldened street cats?
entire moshav, I was told, has a strong fence around the entire perimeter to
keep out wild boars. However, the secure fence did not preclude fencing in a
few.
kilos, wild boar can be dangerous, especially a mama boar with baby boars. Which
makes us realize that our urban dog, softened by sleeping indoors on soft carpets,
could be a tasty appetizer for one of these pigs.
dejected in their small containers, our garden project stymied until we found a
solution.
The boar fence went up yesterday, care of myhusband’s sweat as he first dug a trench, hurling a pick axe into the rocky soil,
pounded steel poles deep down, then hung metal fencing.
spinach, kale and parsley was gently patted into the soil, watered and swaddled
by the fence.
Tilling our soil, sifting rock from coarseearth, timing the planting with the impending winter and understanding when and
where sun’s rays will kiss the seedlings – all of these details bring me back
into alignment with the land and imbue me with awe. I feel as if I have returned to my source, a simple
and elegant harmony.
earth and ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden and had to tend
their land, it has been hard, back-breaking work to yield a crop.
pistachios, apples, honey and pomegranates and it is time to plant winter crops
for the next growing cycle.
our farmer friend pick Shiraz grapes from his organic vineyard. As the sun
rose, some forty people arrived, all volunteers, who collected the bountiful harvest
of juicy purple bunches.
the earth, I am discovering that this is a spiritually sensitive land. Rabbi Shimon said, “There is no plant without
an angel in Heaven tending it and telling it, ‘Grow!’”
experience; we can realign with our origins and when we participate in this, we
renew creation.
When the pomegranates here are ruby red, RoshHashana is nearing. This chag, when I will pray for abundance and for early and
late rains in the land, my thoughts this year will be more ‘grounded.’ With tender
care, we can all help the earth endure.
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