Taking A Sabbatical

It’s a sabbatical year (שנת שמיטה) here in Israel. That is, “the seventh year of the seven-year agricultural cycle mandated by the Torah for the Land of Israel and still observed in contemporary Judaism. During shmita, the land is left to lie fallow and all agricultural activity, including ploughing, planting, pruning and harvesting, is forbidden by Jewish law” (Wikipedia).

The beauty of sugar flowers is you can plant them all year round and they’ll only chip, never die, on you.

What’s the opposite of a green thumb? Grass-assin? Black kiss-of-death thumb? Flortician? (Gan)grene-thumb? Call it what you will, I can’t even keep a cactus alive. I’ve made my peace with this inadequacy, but (un)fortunately I have two plots of land adjacent to my apartment that are an eyesore for the entire building. Ever hopeful, I planted a cherry tree a number of years ago, figuring it would take over the area and solve the problem once and for all. After three years of faithful watering, I figured it was old enough to fend for itself. I mean, how much hand – er branch – holding was it expecting anyway? It soldiered on for a few months and then gave up the ghost. Not even a stump remains.

Now a lot of people find shmita difficult and confusing. But for me it’s a guilt-free year of – maybe not basking in the eyesore exactly – at least being able to look the neighbours in the eye.

Next year, Astroturf.