Random thoughts, unrelated to pandemics

 

What have these two pictures to do with my thoughts.  I will tell you.

I grew up in Johannesburg - no mountains, no rivers.  The minedumps are what constitute my memories. Large flat topped gold/sandy dust covered enormous dumps.  Flying in years later I saw them  covered in sparse patches of green grass.  

Years later I lived on Kibbutz Ein Dor situated in the Jezreel Valley - the lower Galilee. Mt. Tabor is in the above photos.  Wherever I went on the kibbutz, from my cottage to the fields, to the dining room, to the childrens' houses - Mt. Tabor was always smiling on us, always there - a Mona Lisa.  The Arab Village of Daburiyah  nestles around her feet.  A road winds up to a monastery and the Church of the Transfiguration.  It is here that Devorah the prophetess promised victory over Sisera. It is near Nazareth, and quite close to Tiberias. (Everything in Israel is quite close.) Sitting in the gardens of a kibbutz house one looks out at the glorious Jezreel Valley, a patchwork of fields, dotted with settlements. Gentle rolling hills in the spring covered in green and lupine, red poppies, an abundance of flowers, pink and white almond blossoms. Followed by  the comes the season of platinum and gold.  Fields of wheat and sorghum.  Then the harvest and the brown earth.  And always, there is Mt. Tabor.

And the above, the view from my back door.  Mt. Tamalpais.  Always there, sometimes a sharp silhouette, sometimes enshrouded,  always breathtaking sunsets.  There, ever present, blessing us with her presence. The Sleeping Lady, sacred and holy land to many Native American Tribes. A Mountain of legends and beauty.  She has sustained me throughout this strange time.l

As I walked on my crazy circles today, my settled on these two most precious and special mountains that have graced my life. And for them, I give thanks