Outside the sky is carpeted with grey clouds, the burning sun is not visible, but is felt as soon as I open the door. It is like opening an oven door. Next to my front door frame, the needle on the bumblebee clock I brought with me from overseas, is creeping toward 110 degrees fahrenheit. I purposely bought this with me so I wouldn't forget fahrenheit. All the while I lived in the States I converted the temperature to celsius by deducting 30 and dividing the sum by 2. This would make today 40 degrees centigrade, which it is. In other words, hot, oppressive, not a day to be spent outside. This began last evening, high temperatures, a howling wind which blew dust everywhere. Maybe three heavy drops of "rain" - drops that splatter on cars leaving dusty blotches.
Was it just two nights before that I slept in a guest house on a kibbutz in the north of Israel, on a birding expedition? My whole sense of reality seems to have changed. We went up to the Golan Heights, right on the Syrian border. We walked to a natural spring to see the wildlife - toads, water snakes, soldiers, their submachine guns left on the ground as they dunked themselves. A sign on the path warned us not to step away from the marked path because of land mines. Just three feet from that sign was a sign for an ice cream shop to be found through Waze. I tried to photograph these signs but the sun spoilt the photographs. It is the glorious season of platinum and gold, interspersed by the green of grapevines and cherry trees.
We saw Frankolins, Mallards, cormorants, terns, warblers, pink ladies, barn owls. - the last of the spring flowers, glorious clouds, heard muffled explosions from Syria, ate delicious dolmas and humus and pita in a Druze village.
Such is life - and we must celebrate each moment.
