Some Art

 I have been sequestered, firstly because of covid, and now the weather, and general malaise.  I have been reading a lot - someone here bought me about 5 very large books - about 800 pages each, the first being The Seven Sisters.  She insisted I have missed out by not having read them - worse even, I had never heard of them. Until I became ill they took up space on my bookshelf unopened. One of my days in isolation I leafed through the first one. Having nothing else to do, or to read, I began reading. Hmm, I thought, as I read - predictable, contrived, artificial, and I continued reading despite my severe criticism. I am now on the fourth book, and totally engrossed.  

I had also reserved The Covenant of Water on Libby - as an audible book.  A note informed me I had a 21 week late.  3 days later I received a text that the book is ready. So while I listen to this book I began to try watercolours - a medium I find very difficult.  Also some sketching with graphite.

Here are the fruit of my labours:

Dog Days

 Is the "Dog Days of summer" an American expression.  Is there, in fact, such an expression?  It came to my mind this afternoon when I opened the glass sliding door to my patio to look at a new plant I put in this morning.  The sliding door and all the windows are closed. The air conditioning is on. My outdoor bumble bee thermometer registers 100 fahrenheit. That is about 34 degrees centigrade.  Outside the late afternoon air is hot - it feels like stepping into a bowl of hot soup. It wraps itself around you clinging to one like a veil.  If I am out for longer than 5 minutes sweats drips into my eyes and onto my clothing.

I never did like the Israeli summer, but at least when I lived on the kibbutz and in Jerusalem it was a dry heat.  An oven that was not sticky.  In the long ago days of kibbutz life there was no air conditioning.  Electric fans were placed in strategic positions, dark shutters were pulled tight in the morning and only opened again in the evening.  We didn't have refrigerators either.  I would go to the dining room, foam jerry can in hand, and fill it up with soda water that came out of the middle tap in the kitchen. That was a refreshing blessing.  Every evening a breeze would sigh through the cypress trees and we spread out cotton blankets on the grass and sat outside.  But there was no humidity, and that was fine.

Jerusalem evenings even required a shawl or light sweater. Another blessing. 

Of course this was long long ago. Long before one heard mention of global warming, or climate change, or tipping point, or HEAT LOAD, or wind chill.  I might even say "the good old days."

I thrived in the fog and chill of the bay area - I have mentioned this ad nauseum.

All to say is that I am NOT thriving now.  The quality of the heat has changed, as has the quality of the rain on those rare occasions that it rains. The weather report here states for example, 35 degrees with an increased heat load.  I am not sure what this means other than that it is absolutely unbearable.  Some days when there is no heat load it almost feels pleasant at 35 degrees!

My brother lives in rural New Hampshire amidst beautiful trees near a lovely lake.  They had a tornado last week and all the beautiful trees are gone. Thank goodness at least their home was spared.  

 So along with all my other concerns about the ever worsening political situation is an all pervasive overriding anxiety of climate panic.   I know I am not alone in this, but that does not help  particularly.   What have we done to our beautiful planet?

Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday - July 22.  I have to say it was the strangest birthday in my 76 years  on this planet.  Of course I have no recollection of my early, formative years - who knows, there may have been a foreshadowing - speculative.

I am at the tail end of my first bout with Corona!!!!!!  How I got it is a mystery, but exactly the Saturday before my birthday I was slammed!  

I came out of quarantine the day before my birthday, and my first and only foray into the outside oven was to the recycling bin.  

To add to the strangeness of it all, I have spent my past many birthdays in the United States, in California. Israel is 10 hours ahead of California, So speaking to people was as topsy turvy as is everything these days. In other words, I did not speak to friends in the States until late in the day.  As my day was finishing, greetings came in until late into the night.   

A birthday dinner arranged by my sister was celebrated without me!  

All of this adds to my surreal experience of the present times.

Amidst all these happening, it is  uplifting to witness, once again, the wonderful, brave, resilient, humanist, indomitable, spirit of the Israeli people.

Is this going to prevail?

Day of Disruption

 In my geriatric bubble everything is carrying on as usual, EXCEPT for the looks of despair, and sadness, and resignation omnipresent in the faces of the residents, many of whom have served this country as judges, doctors, pilots, soldiers, teachers, nurses.  Of those residents who came from England, the USA, Australia, South Africa, Ireland - they came for idealistic reasons. The chose to come to a country they believed had a right to exist, and would be 'a light unto the nations.' 

This light has been extinguished by a bunch of fanatic, extremist, racist, would be dictators.

It is a sad sad day.  And the people - the wonderful people, who still love this country are out protesting in the streets, at the airport, causing disruptions that are still legal in the eyes of the soon to be gone judicial system.  

Everything has taken on a surreal quality.  All of this that is happening, can't REALLY be happening.  And the weather - hot and humid.  The weather is insane all over the world.  What have we done to our planet and its peoples?  It is time for everyone everywhere to wake up. 

Recent Sojourn

 I was on the Island of Aegina and in Athens for a few days.  Here are some photos - will write shortly.

As usual, since my last post, so much has been happening and I have been unable to write - hope these pictures will replace words.

And Another

 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.

Another Day

 Presently the war with Gaza is already in the past.  I feel like a hamster, going round and round on its wheel.  The same thing, for years now.  Rockets over the border, retaliations, 'targeted' killings, 'collateral damage, " (the killing of civilians and children) - a ceasefire, again and again and again.  What is the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over expecting some kind of result?

So, war over, inflation, money going to the Haredi community, fighting in the coalition.  

Anyway, having said all that, I took the train the other day to Binyamina.  A friend from Zichron Yaakov was to pick me up.

At the railway station my ticket didn't work - the gates did not open, no matter which way I swiped. Some passersby also tried - nothing, no open sesame.  The young guard looking through peoples' luggage and handbags let me in.  To my surprise, it worked when I exited the station in Binyamina. My friend suggested we go to the transport office anyway, and I agreed. First we had coffee in their lovely apartment with windows overlooking the fields and valleys going down to the sea.  If it hadn't been so hot and dusty and hazy we would have seen the Mediterranean, but I did see it in my imagination, sparkling lapis blue and turquoise.  Off to the transport office.  A young woman with long painted nails, and puffed out lips took my card and tapped some keys on a computer.  

"ID card" she said.  I asked if something is wrong with my card.  Brusquely she said, 'it is not working" and without any further explanation  she made a new card and handed it to me.We strolled around the shops and galleries of Zichron and went to have lunch in Ramat HaNadiv - the gorgeous, well maintained gardens established by Baron Rothschild.  

Then it was time to return by train.  My ticket worked.  There was actually someone at the information window - the first time I have seen an official.  I asked her which train to take to Beit Yehoshua and she told me platform 3.  When I got there I realised she hadn't seen which number train to take and what its final destination was.  I looked at the notice board - names in Hebrew, Arabic, English repeated - somewhere I once saw Beit Yehoshua, but then didn't see it again.  A train pulled in - I had no idea if this is the train I should board.  The doors closed - some religious men ran toward it and got on, couldn't ask them.  Along ambled someone who vaguely looked like he might be a conductor - I asked him.He looked at me as if to say "what a nuisance you are" and pointed to the train with closed doors.  "How do I get on?"  I asked - rudely he said, find a green button.  I lost my composure - I said "I am new and I don't know how things work, would it hurt you to not be rude?"

I got to Beit Yehoshua and had to find a bus.  The guard letting people in sat at his post biting the nail on his forefinger, he proceed to bit the nail on his middle finger. I asked him where the buses are - "I don't know," he said chewing on his nail, "ask the person at information" he said, waving his hand in the direction of an empty office.

"There is no one to ask" I told him.  He shrugged and continued to his next nail.

Eventually a passenger told me where to go.  

It takes a lot of patience, living in Israel, and some days I just don't have it.

I took a taxi home.