Walk to SouqTown (through Eden!)

Today, we walked along the river to and from our Souq town. We’d noticed that the same river runs past our village as runs past the souq town, so we asked Ali about it, and he agreed to walk us into town. It was beeyoutiful. At one point, I pulled out my camera (which I was trying not to do too often, because Ali kept a quick pace). I was about to take a picture of a field*, but B**, right behind me, said, “Turn around.”

I did, and said, “Wow.” Rising above the flower-filled field was a towering cliff with a kasbah perched on top. I snapped both pictures – with the castle and without – and commented, “You just can’t take a bad picture in this country.”

B** responded, “It helps that the sky is always blue and the sun is always shining.”

“Yeah, that helps.”


* Not just any field. Well, OK, nearly any field around here looks like this, but it’s pretty doggoned amazing. Rising above the alfalfa are wildflowers – irises, lilies, and dozens of others whose names I don’t know – that just…radiate profligate beauty. They are pink and purple and yellow, they stand out in glorious contrast to the green fields they grow from, and every time I pass one, I reflect on the line, “Consider the lilies of the field.” I can see why these would inspire a sermon. They’re so … unnecessarily beautiful. They aren’t planted, they aren’t cultivated, and no one I’ve asked even knows their names. (When I’ve tried, whichever member of the gaggle I’m talking to will just look at me and say, “Flower,” in this tone of voice that says, “Were you dropped on your head as a child?”) When the grasses are harvested, the flowers are cut down with them, and they’re all dried together and fed to the sheep. They’re effectively invisible, in terms of effort or utility…but when the sunlight shines through them, their translucent radience puts Monet to shame.