Flowers from the Envelope

 

As I prepare our Tu b'Shevat spread of Holy Land species, I smile and Remember our Tu b'Shevat celebrations in Jerusalem. 

Technically, Tu b'Shevat (the 15th of Shevat, tonight and tomorrow) is the the new year for trees but for the purpose of this post, I will take some literary liberties and extend it to include flowering plants and fragrant herbs. Though we never had a garden of our own in Israel, I lived vicariously through some of the lovely green spaces – both public and private – in our Jerusalem neighborhood.

One such space belongs to a dear friend. Whereas we enjoyed a stunning view of the Jerusalem Hills from our porch, my friend holds the holy land in her hands every time she putters in her backyard oasis. In recent weeks, that lush little corner of color became all the more flowerful and fragrant – with her purchases from the envelope. No, not the small packets of seeds one may buy at the local nursery. Rather, from the Gaza Envelope, the populated area of Israel along the border of the Gaza Strip. 

In her own words...

"A number of weeks ago, I bought flowers from the envelope. The Gaza Envelope, that is. This is not as trivial as it may sound. Greenhouse owners in the Gaza Envelope were forced to evacuate after the horrific events of October 7th, leaving millions of their plants behind. Due to the ensuing war and non-stop missile fire to the area, these owners didn't know if their plants were alive, bombed or burnt. 

Several weeks into the war, a sales pitch was made on social media from one such greenhouse owner, to please purchase the plants he was able to salvage. The response was overwhelming. Israelis wanted to show support and solidarity with their brethren in the south. By the time I tried to place my order, he was sold out.

I acted more quickly the next time and received a carton containing a stunning assortment of beautiful flowering plants - pinks and purples, tall and low, annuals and perennials - as well as aromatic lavender, lemongrass and sage. A gardener's dream. I happily planted them in my garden.

More recently, I received yet another message on our neighborhood email list. A greenhouse owner from Moshav Shokeda in the Gaza Envelope was selling his wandering wares outside a nearby supermarket. Shokeda is a religious moshav across from Kibbutz Be'eri, the kibbutz which has become the symbol of the cold-blooded massacre and heinous crimes against humanity; of the horrific destruction and hostage taking. It was only natural that the mere mention of Be'eri would conjure up these associations and make us want to support him. And thus, even on a short erev Shabbat, I drove off in search of another colorful collection.

When I reached the makeshift shop, I was captivated by the farmer's modest van draped with a banner that read (in Hebrew, of course, and in traditional blue and white): "From the South, with love. Am Yisrael Chai." It wasn't a sales gimmick. It had become his mantra. 

There, outside a Jerusalem supermarket, stood a Jewish greenhouse owner from the Gaza Envelope, who was not giving in or giving up. I chose a few small burgundy plants and made a mental note to come back the next week to buy more to give as gifts - a housewarming gift to new neighbors, a birthday present for a friend, and a few for my weekly "Eishet Chayal" Shabbos bags.

Literally translated as "a soldier's wife", but also a play on the words "Eishet Chayil", Woman of Valor, a well-known Shabbos hymn,
Eishet Chayal is a wonderful project that distributes Shabbos bags to families of soldiers on reserve army duty. The bag includes a gift

for the "eishet chayal" with a personal note to her from the sender as well as a toy or game for the children, a home-baked cake, and letters from children written for the children who haven't seen their father for however long. My gift would be the plant and, in my note, I’d be sure to explain where it came from.

These flowers from the Envelope now adorn my garden with vibrant colors and fragrant aromas. But they are so much more than that. My plants tell many tales. They are a flowering monument to the tragic events of October 7. They are a story of the resilience of our brethren in the south who are pushing forward, moving on. I am able to sit in my garden – and not in a shelter – thanks to the soldiers who are fighting for our right to live in our land. 

These flowers are a tribute to them and to the sacrifices that their families are making on my behalf. (ed. note: The writer has three sons-in-law who have been serving in one capacity or another in this war and numerous other extended family members who are making these sacrifices every day.) My garden speaks volumes of our patriotic home front now standing united after painful months of disunity, and of the non-stop chesed (acts of kindness) taking place here and abroad. And they are a reminder of the One Above who is watching over us at every moment, protecting our nation, guiding our soldiers through the alleyways of Gaza and its underground tunnels, and smiling at His children who are being good and caring towards one another. I am optimistic that these plants will soon be a living reminder of the victory that He will bestow upon us, in His kindness."

Amen, dear friend. And Tu b'Shevat Sameyach to all.

P.S. I can't remember the last time (I imagine there have been some) that my (Gregorian) birthday (January 25) overlapped with Tu b'Shevat. So I will follow an Israeli tradition of blessing others on my special day and wish you a lush garden of earthly bounty and spiritual delights. And may we share only good news in the year(s) ahead.