Nature

A desert collage

From my dining room windows facing east I can see the desert. In the mornings with a cup of coffee in my hand I stand there and watch how the sun, a huge red sphere is rising slowly over the Edom mountain range on the Jordanian border. Once over the mountains it colors the otherwise brown landscape with all shades of orange as if lighting a fire. The massive mountain range, hazy in the morning, becomes crystal clear in the evening when the sun as it goes down strokes it with its last rays. I love this view and watching how the colors change with each time of the day.

 Brown on brown is the desert color pallet. From the dark deep shady browns to the very light ones that appear almost white. The rocks bleached by the sun shimmer and almost force me to close my eyes. When I stand there squinting against the blinding sun I can see for miles how the soft round hills go on and on until they end abruptly at the edge of the sea. One brown hill follows another, and another, broken only by an occasional lonely tree.  Nothing to stop my eyes from resting on the Dead Sea a splash of vibrant blue just below the horizon. 

 From where I stand at the big glass window I can see the point at the end of our street where the town ends and the road, a black narrow strip of asphalt keeps on going creating the only disruption in the uninterrupted scenery. It appears and disappears behind the curves and I try to follow it until I can see it no more and all is left is the vast emptiness.

If you are not familiar with the desert you might think it is desolate and barren but I can assure you it is not. It hosted many ancient cultures for hundreds of years. Diverse people came and left, leaving behind just the echoes of their voices and their foot prints in the uninterrupted dust, never to be seen again. They were loners, outcasts or dreamers but they all had one thing in common. They did not bend over to the rules and were willing to assume the consequences. The desert can be a home and a shelter, at times more welcoming than the richest of homes. Its wealth is subtle and its vastness calming.

As I watch the desert in the different seasons I am constantly amazed by its richness, diversity and many faces. The changes some small and others almost theatrical are quick and utterly unpredictable.

In the fall the rain comes, big heavy drops, after months of scorching, blazing summer sun. The rain will pound on the sun baked ground and create a magical transformation. Suddenly there is life everywhere creating a vivid sense of awakening. Small plants will sprout within minutes and small insects will emerge from under the rocks. Almost as if some quick messenger delivered the news, “water! Come out, water”. The air heavy with anticipation just minutes before will be buzzing and humming with the frantic movement.

The harmless rain drops, messengers of life when they first appear can within minutes turn into a full scale flood. The small streams will join to create a wall of roaring water with a surprising force and magnitude that can take on everything on its way to the sea.

In the spring the desert becomes restless. At night the winds are howling, and their echo is spreading over the vast empty space and the narrow ravines. The dry bushes are woken up by the winds that make them go on, rolling, for miles. It is the time of the sand storms. They gather force silently and then fill up the sky and the air with a dense cloud of yellow sand and deafening noise. There is no way to hide from the sand when it surrounds you like a shroud limits your move and take away your sight.

In the front of my house I planted a garden and cultivated it for years. Forever battling the burning summer sun and safeguarding the precious flowers and few trees with a constant supply of water. I know how they completely rely on my care to survive and it makes me proud to see the patches of green I created against the brown landscape.  When I sit there on my porch in the summer nights I relish on the temporary relief from the heat and can almost forget the desert in my back yard.

For over twenty five years I lived in this small town at the edge of the desert. Every spring I would try with no success to keep the sand out of my freshly cleaned house. All along the summer I battled the heat and dryness making sure to hydrate myself and my precious garden. When the fall finally came I hoped with everyone else for the rain to come and reward us with a spectacular show of wild flowers.

Living at the edge of the desert and being surrounded by the remains of ancient extinct cultures; is a constant reminder of the desert power. One cannot forget for even one minute that underneath its great beauty danger lurks. The desert is a giant. For days it can lie quietly outwardly harmless but dare to defy him and it will turn up on you and within minutes crush you up. It was always here and will be, while we humans are transitory and finite.

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