Through my years in Israel, I have been hopelessly in love with the Israeli North. This region consists of thick forest and mountains with picturesque rocks, creepers, blooming trees, and poppies….Poppies are everywhere! The flowers look so brave because of their bright red color, yet, so fragile. Their almost transparent petals turn the sunbeams into the same red hue as they are making shimmer around them almost tangible.
For years I kept feeling that the North has innocence in itself. With the trees growing fast and with their roots plowing the soil, this region’s historical memory is not lasting. The forest is forgiving and revitalizing. When I think about the North, I think about lead – cumbersome and cold, the one that is used for bullets. So many warriors have gone through this region, to name a few; Roman Empire, the Crusades even Mongols!
The atmosphere as such that it seems that fallen soldiers were turned into beautiful trees with light green foliage and descending branches. It seems like the trees are crying for all of us who still stress ourselves in political debate and everlasting consumer competitions. The earth absorbed their blood and gave it a second life because ultimately, we all come from the soil and we harvest on it. We beg for its mercy, and we dance to its prosperity.