Elms in the Yard

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Cats!

Of course. What else?

Here are Her Ladyship and Missy together. They’re getting along much better these days. It’s a joy to watch.

Here are a few solo shots of Missy.

I’m hiding. Bet you can’t see me!

OK, I climbed the tree. Now what do I do?

This cat was patrolling outside a public building, helping the security guard do his job. Notice that her left ear is a bit flat on top. That’s a sign that she’s been spayed. Her eyes are so dramatic—I wonder what kind of eye liner she uses.

And here’s a pretty black cat I met in the garden of Ticho House downtown. Besides her white locket, she has several white toes on her hind feet. (In this photo, they are obscured by the drip-irrigation hose.) She consented to give my fingers a sniff, but wouldn’t get any closer. Oh, well.

(Check out this week’s Friday Ark at the Modulator. The Carnival of the Cats will be up on Sunday at Animal Family.)

Around and About

Some pictures from this week:

First, a small wasp on a mustard blossom:

Next, a close-up of a stinging nettle:

A snail among leaves:

And now for something completely different: a wooden model of an airplane on a terrace:

Finally, a blue speedwell.

The Museum of Psalms

I was due to meet a friend for lunch downtown last Friday afternoon, and she called to tell me she was running a little late.

No problem, I thought. I’ll just see the sights right here. Even though I live in Jerusalem, my life is that of a regular working person, and I don’t get much time to see the gems that are in my own back yard. Well, here’s a chance.

So I headed up Rav Kook Street, little knowing what was awaiting me.

I know this old wooden door from years back, but this was the first time I was passing it with my camera at the ready:

Then, to the left, I saw the spacious, olive-tree-lined alleyway leading to Ticho House, and decided to explore.

What I saw there aroused my curiosity at first. A museum dedicated to the Psalms? I thought. It’s probably about how people have recited the Psalms for generations and how it brought them solace. Stuff like that. Very nice, but probably not very interesting.

Was I ever wrong. The place knocked my socks off.

This is the entrance to the courtyard in which the Museum of Psalms is located.

Viewers get their first taste of the incredible artwork that awaits them in the outer hall. (I lay down on the floor to get this picture. Although it was well worth the trouble, the picture doesn’t even come close to doing it justice.)

The inner entrance:

Part of the text of the plaque reads:

The Paintings of Moshe Tzvi Berger

Depicting the verses from the Book of Psalms in the service of God, the Jewish people, the nations, and to all who do not live by bread alone, but who seek spiritual progress and enlightenment of the soul

Once you walk in, you find yourself in an old Jerusalem courtyard home. (The artist lives in the very same compound.) There are old wells outside, covered now for safety reasons, but one is covered with glass and you’ll see water inside if you look down. The home itself is one long room after another, spacious and airy, and filled with the most incredible paintings you can possibly imagine.

For reasons which I’m sure my half-dozen readers will understand, I didn’t take any pictures inside the museum. In fact, I don’t even want to try to describe them. Fortunately, the Museum of Psalms has its own website, where you can browse Moshe Tzvi Berger’s amazing artwork to your heart’s content.

When my friend arrived, we had a lovely lunch and then I took her to the museum. “You have to see this place,” I told her. “It’s incredible. You’re going to flip.”

She did.

So what are you still doing here? Go! Go!

Enjoy.

Out from Under II

This time it was a bad cold—so bad, in fact, that I went to the doctor for a strep test. Fortunately, it wasn’t strep, and now it’s almost over.

But it did mean that I spent a few days sick at home, with a temperature. No fun at all. I couldn’t even make a batch of soap, since I don’t work with dangerous chemicals (lye) or potentially dangerous tools (my stick blender) when I have a temperature.

I made a batch last week, though—Castile soap. Here it is:

Good news: the whole batch is spoken for. Yes!

More good news: Last week I auditioned for a local stage production. The audition went well, and yesterday morning I got a call telling me I made the callbacks! They’re due to be held early this week. Feel free to wish me a broken leg.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Cat Adventures at Home and Away

I met a long-haired red tabby cat who looks for all the world like Frisky’s cousin. Since I’m a Frisky fan, I felt I had to take a picture of him. As I was getting the camera ready, he came towards me to make friends.

“Ah, yes. Right there. Wonderful.”

I was a bad girl in this one, compromising Her Ladyship’s dignity by putting a toy mousey on her back. Bad human! Bad! Bad!

Finally, here’s Missy in deep concentration, playing with a feather.

(Check out this week’s Friday Ark at The Modulator. The Carnival of the Cats will be at Bloggin’ Out Loud on Sunday.)

Winter Flowers

Rakefet (cyclamen) blossoms:

Sunday, February 12, 2006

They Say Cats Are Very Clean

Well, whoever “they” are, they’re absolutely right. Cats are very clean indeed, especially this one.

It’s an RFOAC (reasonable facsimile of a cat), of course: one of several very lovely soap molds that a generous and good-hearted fellow blogger enabled me to purchase.

But as luck would have it, the soap inside is from the same batch that I had the mishap with last week. The pH level seems to be coming down, though, so there’s hope that eventually it will be usable. I like the way the colors came out: the natural color of the soap, along with the orange dye (it’s actually food coloring), go well with each other, almost creating a red-tabby-like effect. Maybe one day I’ll graduate to calico—now that would be a challenge!

In the meantime, once the soap inside the mold is hard enough to remove without further mishap, I’ll lay this batch aside and start work on a new one. And then that generous and good-hearted blogger had better watch out, because as soon as I can manage it, he and his family are going to find themselves with a bunch more cats than they already have.

Shepherd’s Purse

Two close-ups of one of my favorite herbs, shepherd’s purse. (You can find more information about it here.)

Shepherd’s Purse grows during the rainy season in Israel, and withers in late spring. The seed pods (the heart-shaped projections on the plant that look like leaves) harden and turn brown, eventually releasing the tiny tan seeds.

And yes, the stuff does stop bleeding, practically on contact. I have direct experience of that. One dry winter morning, when I was staying with a friend, I woke up with a nosebleed. My friend, who happens to be a birthing coach, had some tincture of shepherd’s purse made from the fresh, wild-growing plant. A quarter teaspoon in some hot water was all it took, and it even seemed that the bleeding stopped the moment the liquid made contact with my tongue.

Powerful stuff, that.

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Cats about Town

Here are some cats I saw around Jerusalem over the past week or so. First, a tuxedo cat from downtown:

Silvergirl and son (Silvergirl is in the back):

Camouflage kitty?

Here is a calico cat who got my attention at a local ATM. (“You will pet me. Now.”)

This tuxedo cat stands guard in front of an apartment building near where I work:

Check out this week’s Friday Ark at The Modulator. This week’s Carnival of the Cats will be held at Watermark.

Current Events

I’ve been following the Cartoon Affair, and to be honest, the reactions of the Islamists reminds me of a two-year-old throwing a tantrum.

What’s the matter—they can dish it out, but they can’t take it?

The only thing I have to say to them is: Grow up.

Out from Under

Blogging has been sparse over the past several weeks. But now that I’m out from under the big pile of extra work that I was doing, it should be back up to speed.

In order to celebrate my having completed the enormous pile of extra work (affectionately referred to as The Translation That Ate Chicago), I made a batch of soap—my most ambitious recipe to date. All was going well until I made the mistake of taking it off the flame too early because I thought it was done. (I plead being a novice.) So now it’s back in the pot, continuing to cook until it turns from a mess of alkaline goop into usable soap. For the soapers out there, I probably could have treated it like cold-process soap and let it sit for a month, but I do want to get it done.

I’ve been giving out samples of my first batch to some friends and co-workers, and so far the reviews have been excellent. It’s Castile soap—or, for the purists, 95 percent olive-oil soap with five percent castor oil added for a good lather. (Castile soap is, legally speaking, a soap that contains at least fifty percent olive oil, but some soapers say that only one hundred percent will do.) I’ve used it myself and at the risk of tooting my own horn, I think it turned out well. Further good news on the soapmaking front: one of my friends liked the samples so much that he has ordered a bunch of bars for himself and his family! Looks like I’ll be whipping up a big batch of Castile this week, and I can’t wait.

One funny thing happened, though: I left a small bar of the soap for a co-worker who would be coming in the next day, when I wouldn’t be there. Because of its color and fragrance, she thought it was chocolate and bit into it. I’d thought someone would be there to tell her what it was, but that didn’t happen. Oops!

Back to the current batch: I was pretty worried that I had ruined it. It’s my first attempt at using cocoa butter in the mix, and I’d been hoping that it would turn out well. I e-mailed my teacher in a bit of a panic, thinking that I had spoiled it beyond repair. What a relief it was when she told me that the only way to ruin a batch is to burn it. Fortunately that’s not happening; I keep a very close eye on my improvised double boilers.

And that reminds me: time to check them again.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Cats on the Goat Farm

Last Friday, a dear friend of mine gave me a fantastic treat: she took me to a lovely goat-cheese farm in the Jerusalem hills. It’s called Havat Ya’aran—that’s “Ya’aran Farm” in Hebrew—and it is an absolutely beautiful place. The family who lives there built their home with their own hands, grows their own vegetables and herds the goats that make the cheese. They also have horses, chickens and olive trees. I don’t know whether they press their own olive oil, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they did.

The farm has a picnic area for visitors, and when my friend and I sat down there to have our lunch, we got a visitor of our own. Actually, we had spotted her earlier, curled up in a pile of straw in a corner of the horses’ stable.

My friend shared her goat-milk yogurt with the cat, who accepted it enthusiastically and asked for more. When the yogurt was all gone, my friend let the cat lick the inside of the bottle, as far as her tongue could reach. The cat must be used to visitors because she is super-friendly. I guess we weren’t the first ones she’s shared a snack and skritches with, and we probably won’t be the last.

As my friend and I were preparing to leave, two more cats, probably our new friend’s littermates, came running toward us. One was particularly disappointed over having missed a yogurt snack, but we gave her plenty of skritches, which she received happily. When my friend took a picture of me at the entrance to the farm, this kitty did the figure-eights at my ankles, purring and meowing loudly for attention and quieting only when I bent down to pet her.

Here she is, watching us get ready to go.

Havat Ya’aran is in danger of being closed down, through no fault of its own. The family does not own the land, but was given the legal right to live there and make use of it. They have created a beautiful place and provide a good and healthy product. It would be a shame to lose this lovely farm. Locals, if you go to buy cheese there, please be sure to sign the petition in the store asking that the family and their farm be permitted to stay.

You can find more information about Havat Ya’aran (in Hebrew) in this Ynet article, In Search of Fine Cheese.

(Check out this week’s Carnival of the Cats at Laurence Simon’s. Laurence is pinch-hitting on very short notice—kol ha-kavod to him.)

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

So You Wanna Conjugate?

I’m talking verbs, people. Real, honest-to-goodness verbs. In Hebrew.

Jacob Richman has a great new site for learning how to conjugate Hebrew verbs. (Some knowledge of Hebrew is necessary.)

While you’re there, check out the rest of Jacob’s sites. They’re full of wonderful fun stuff, lots of information and things to learn.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Making Friends

I met this lovely red tabby cat on the way home from work today.

I decided to go closer.

“If I can’t see you, does that mean you can’t see me?”

“Oh, all right. I guess you’re OK, then.”

(The Carnival of the Cats will be up at Meryl’s later today. Yay, Tig and Gracie!)

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Flowers

An almond blossom:

Mallow blossoms (mallow is also called hubeiza or lehem aravit—“Arab bread”):

Below are mallow seed pods. This edible, nutritious plant was one of several that provided vital nourishment for the inhabitants of Jerusalem during the siege of 1947–1948.

For those who are interested, here is more information about our wonderful mallow plants (and a recipe, too!) courtesy of Henriette’s Herbal Homepage.

Red Tape

Just behind my apartment building is a small grove of pine trees planted in 1981, in honor of former Jerusalem mayor Teddy Kollek’s seventieth birthday. (He was still mayor then, actually.) It’s a lovely, quiet bit of green where people can hear birdsong and enjoy a bit of nature.

Today, as I passed that grove on my way home from work, I saw that most of the trees had been marked with red ribbons tied somewhere in their branches:

I don’t know how things were over here back in 1981, but these days the area where the grove is located is prime real estate. So I’m sure that the fact that the trees are marked with red tape is not the municipality’s way of noting that they need more fertilizer.

Teddy Kollek is still around, but I don’t think we’ll be able to say the same for the grove planted in his honor approximately twenty-four years ago. It looks as though soon, yet another bit of Jerusalem’s dwindling green space will disappear.

What a shame. What a terrible shame.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Blue Suede Jews

Dave Bender of At Level Ground has written an article about The Elvis Inn, which is just outside Jerusalem, for the Atlanta Jewish Life Magazine. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Blue Suede Jews:

Set a bit off the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv highway, near the Kibbutz Neveh Ilan Guest House, is the shrine of shlock, the ultra in kitsch: the Elvis Inn gas station, restaurant, bar and grill and tourist trap, run by owners and brothers Amnon and Uri, along with Uri’s son, Amir, and several staffers.

While it’s certainly not Graceland, the neo-50s and 60s décor does get you in the mood, with a 16-foot-high golden statue of Elvis in the parking lot alongside the entrance, and a second even larger one nearby, with one arm raised, seemingly waving towards Jerusalem.

There are more than 1,000 pictures, posters, and postcards covering nearly every flat surface, sent by fans and like-minded Elvis lovers worldwide. There are also four life-sized Elvis statues scattered around the premises in various poses, sitting at a table, strumming a guitar, and, in general watching over the place.

The Elvis Inn has been operating for more than thirty years, and each year its owners hold a ceremony on the dates of Elvis’s birth and death.

The Inn has kept on through war and peace, tourists and terrorism, and innumerable impersonators ever since. The place has slowly grown, along with the ebb and flow of the tourist buses unloading wide-eyed visitors for a photo-op and snack.

But when they hold the memorial service, it’s not a staid affair. “Film crews from around the world show up,” according to Yoeli, with reporters from “China, Japan, the U.S. and Europe ... and [Israel Radio’s] Reshet Gimmel Network provides a live feed throughout the day.”

The inn has had some interesting guests so far:

“We were in communication with Priscilla [Presley], who was supposed to come for the ceremony, but cancelled out, apparently due to the intifada,” Yoeli surmises. Other guests were Elvis’s performance costume seamstress, as well as the man whose claim to fame was announcing, “Elvis has left the building” as concerts concluded.

Another group the intifada doesn’t faze, and arrives regularly, is a contingent of U.S. Marines. Yoeli says the restaurant has an informal agreement with the American authorities that whenever one of the Navy destroyers docks at Haifa, the crew visits the Inn. “When they arrive, it’s one big party. They see Elvis, feel at home, and we turn up the volume—some get up and dance,” Yoeli says.

Read the whole thing.

And Now, Some of the Local Flora

Just when my half-dozen readers thought I was going to overdose them with cat pictures:

Leaves and buds of the rakefet (cyclamen) plant:

Here’s the tree in the front yard, briefly bare for the winter. (This picture was taken from the same angle I used for the one I took last summer.)

Lobby Library

Seen in the lobby of an ordinary apartment building in Jerusalem:

It’s a real, live lending library. In several languages.

But wait! What’s that in the corner, all the way on the left?

Wow. Looks like an ancient tool from prehistoric times. Someone call the Israel Antiquities Authority, quick!

Friday, January 13, 2006

This One’s for Meryl

Meryl very kindly bribed me with a Tig picture to vote for her in this year’s JIB Awards, which were created last year by Dave of Israelly Cool. Then she added a picture of Gracie, and that finished me. No resistance left.

So, since one good turn deserves another, here are the some of the cats I met on my way home yesterday. It was a wet afternoon, immediately after rain, which is just when the cats come out. It’s quite the bonanza if you enjoy taking kitty pictures (and wasting lots of time).

This was a lucky shot. I took out my camera and got it ready quietly, out of the cat’s line of sight, so it wouldn’t run away before I had the chance to take the picture. (It didn't run away even after I took the picture.)