Winter has arrived. Sof sof. (Finally.)
November had us on tenterhooks, what with the THIRTY DAYS without rain. (It was actually more than that–about six straight weeks–but the fact that there was an entire calendar month in there made everybody craaaaazy.) The state of the Kinneret, the source of our potable water until at least 2013, was on the minds of everyone, from gan age and up. The chief rabbinate called for people to fast. Everyone obsessively followed the forecast, which was unusually warm and depressingly sunny.
And then…the weather turned.
Winds of 100 kph (over 60 mph) were predicted for Friday night and Saturday. People were told to secure their belongings. (Result: laundry rack and plastic chairs taking up the imaginary room we have in our apartment. Oh hello! I’ll try not to trip over you!)
The rain on Saturday was just enough to send down muddy splashes from the sky, wind-whipped dust crashing to earth.
Sunday’s sky was yellow. High winds + edge of desert + low-hanging clouds = yellow sky. It’s happened before–in the spring–and it never fails to be creepy.
The Israeli Twitterati/Facebook crew to the north (Pardes Hana and Raanana) were excited about rainstorms. Over the afternoon it crept south and east, down to Givat Shmuel and Petach Tikvah and Yehud.
Finally, after a few brief false starts, we got our rain in the late afternoon yesterday. It was already dark, because December. And it rained. All night. Thunder, lightening, and wind attended it. Rain got to Jerusalem, dustings of snow in Neve Daniel and Tzur Hadassah. (So say the Twitterati.)
This morning it was grey and chilly and still raining and blustery and nobody wanted to get out of bed. Or, rather, everyone wound up in our bed and did not want to leave that.
I bribed myself to get dressed by throwing my computer into a bag, skipping a sink (and counter–small sink) full of dishes in favor of working at a cafe in the mall. Which may or may not have turned into a social event with Kelli and Leah.
But here is how out of sorts I am: Instead of a coffee-based drink, I got tea. (With mint, naturally, because this is the Middle East. This is how we roll.) Normally, I am completely opposed to paying for tea in restaurants or cafes because I make it at home. All the time. Boiling water and a tea bag. Not rocket science. However–tea is served at 100C. Cappucino is served at 70C. Hands = freezing. Also dry and cracked and looking like the “before” picture in a hand cream ad.
So that is how things stand. I haven’t had water to drink in days, just tea or coffee. Soup is very important. Because three straight days with very little sunlight and high winds means that it is downright chilly to hang out in buildings with tile floors and no insulation in the stone walls. Even Taxman is huddled under a blanket.
Yeah, tea and soup. And carbs: apparently I am planning to hiberate, because there is nothing I won’t put Nutella on right now. (Fine, maybe not soup. But on the bread/pancakes/apples that are near the soup.)
The sun is supposed to return tomorrow or the next day. I’ll roll out of bed with it, get to the gym, go back to coffee, find moments mid-day to step out to the porch and warm up. Until the little mini-cycle of rain starts again.
But I’m still hoping for more rain. I’ve got lots of tea. And a little boy who is waiting for some wildflowers.