Leah’s Blog – Parshat Reeh – August 2024
Leah’s Blog – Parshat Reeh – August 2024
In the time of the strengthening ritual of sweeping the early autumn leaves and what that means to me, we celebrate our Aliyah, 39 years ago. The sun was just this warm (actually hot), the sky looked exactly like this (with the first clouds rolling in), the olive trees looking full and ready for picking soon (where they had survived in this wilderness). It always hits me that the tail end of August is the foreshadowing of a new time- Elul coming up, a time of reflection and thankfulness; the backdrop of the holidays just peeking through now. It couldn’t be more suited to start a new life somewhere far, far away from family friends and everything familiar. Prior to our Aliyah, I was working on Park Avenue and 60th Street in Manhattan in one of the upper floor offices of the W Z O. Above my desk, in a complete contra to the city sites and pleasures of the amenities of urban life, hung a large framed picture with the saying “We never promised you a rose garden”, a mural of sorts that would actually predict my life pretty much to its destiny. Even then, an almost kallah-in six inch heels running off to Bloomingdales at lunch break, the sign would follow me everywhere. I for one, dreamed of an open space, but who would fathom that I (we) would be plunked down there into the thicket of thorns and barren hilltops of Israel’s heartland and feel SO at home. It was a match made in heaven- high heels placed into back of the closet and replaced by sandals and boots.
Not just the olive, but the fig trees persisted through the mounds of dusty earth, popping out here and there- survivors of a long exile. This desert turned into a resurrected testimony to prophecy coming true with every grapevine, with every blessing planted by those who returned. I gravitated to it like wearing cotton- soon you can’t wear anything else. Soon we planted a garden, that bugs, and pests of all kinds would strike, mimicking the response of the world whose onslaught offense to Israel’s reclaim of her Land covenant sites only morphed to greater and greater proportions. We sought solace in the sweet earth, we chose to as an ideology not use synthetic man made solutions but organic ones- in the garden and on the ground in the world arena. Large organic farms materialized over the hills and dales here- many of whom supply Israel with the finest of eggs, goat products and other delights. The sensation I feel now as I rake the leaves has me remembering something I call my strengthening ritual as I went rumpling through the leaves in late autumn searching for acorns for the squirrels my mom would feed outside her office at the World Trade Center. With a sense of purpose I set out on a mission; for a six year old it was tremendous. There, in a park in Brooklyn was a tying to nature that always had me preferring the earth to anything else and having a mission. I followed this vibe to a land unsown.
I am a wishful gardener. We plant (a little garden) of sage, rosemary, lavender, cucumbers, tomatoes, olive trees, lemon trees, fig trees, some flowers – (the grass has a hard time here) and pray. Soon the plump olives will be ready for picking – the other joy of my life- making the olive oil. Spoiled that I am, the local olive press here is all I need to fill recycled glass bottles with the precious golden oil and when I say precious I mean it has become pricey. I am surrounded by the seven species, the pomegranate flowers a bright red now and still I find relics of the past when the tribe of Efrayim lived here in my garden, like a heavy stone bowl used for grinding barley- embedded into it hundreds of tiny impressions. This is the Land of Yosef- a fertile land blessed with grains, where our forefathers ate the fig and broad beans, date palms and chick peas. They were herders of sheep and made wine. There are wells and cisterns all over this hill, all over these mountains- hundreds and thousands of them. Water was stored in them when the soil became dusty like now. The mood is one of a Land of bounty and hope.
Celebrating our Aliyah anniversary I share with you a delicious recipe for what we call “Pop Tart Pie”- remembering the wonderful treats of our childhood and making a way for it to bake here as well
I package of butter or parve butter (coconut oil butter)- three cups whole wheat flour- some oatmeal-1 egg- half cup brown sugar- you can add nutmeg and cinnamon spice- add any fruit of your choice (Benny grows raspberries here)and a must- I container of blueberry pie filling. Mix all ingredients and bake in pie pan at 300 F for twenty minutes to a half hour. Serve with Vanilla ice cream- you are sure to taste a piece of heaven.
Shabbat shalom to all our Dear friends of Itamar xoxoxoxox Leah
Post a Comment