How could I resist an exhibition called “In the Valley of David and Goliath”? The exhibition at the Bible Lands Museum in Jerusalem displays artifacts excavated from 2007 to 2013 at a 3,000 year-old site today known as Khirbet Qeiyafa, in the Elah Valley. But maybe, just maybe, it was the city of Sha'arayim, mentioned… Continue reading Look at the King the King the King
Posts
Dust
Yes, there's dust, but hey, the dust is old. When I try to read about exactly how old this place is, it's as if I ate an ice cream bar too fast: brain freeze. During our five years in England we explored its history backwards, starting with Victorian, then heading out to medieval cathedral towns,… Continue reading Dust
Jerusalem
First impression, as someone at the handle end of a taut dog leash: walls, fences, and broken glass. The beige stones of the low walls have holes in them, look old, but they still block us from that apparent field of wasteland, from the hidden courtyards, from everything except this glass strewn uneven sidewalk. Once… Continue reading Jerusalem
Bared and Ready
At the park, the muddy ground is finally bare of leaves. The high grey tendons of leafless trees scratch at the tenebrous morning sky. Frost has given a hat-hair limpness to the hellebores and has edged with brown the early rhododendron blooms. Chill, close, an air of expectancy.
Readers
Such doom and gloom to be found on the internet about the future of reading, of fiction, of books. And yet. The window washer tells me he likes to read non-fiction, and rattles off a list of recent reads. Biographies of sports celebs, politicians, people's experience of war. Nothing unusual in this except that he… Continue reading Readers
The Fencer and The Boxer
There's a pay and display stand in the park parking lot. And it seems to suit the height of nobody. The more elegant man stands with one foot forward, knee slightly bent, arm extended as if he were holding a sword, fingertip stretching for the buttons. More typical is the boxer, who stands with legs… Continue reading The Fencer and The Boxer
Spiders and Art
Wildlife is and should be useless in the same way art, music, poetry and even sports are useless. They are useless in the sense that they do nothing more than raise our spirits, make us laugh or cry, frighten, disturb and delight us. They connect us not just to what’s weird, different, other, but to… Continue reading Spiders and Art
Plastic land
From England to Canada, from the land of brick and gardens to the land of concrete. A cheap hotel near the airport for one night shocks me back into Canadian life. Carpet on concrete floors -- that smell. Plastic cutlery at the breakfast buffet, styrofoam cups, plastic plates, plastic glasses in the room. Zap zap… Continue reading Plastic land
Featherlies
Seen from the bus (not today) on Kensington, a man in a cream kurta (long shirt) with matching cap, white embroidered, cradling in his arm a bundle, the white points of which must be sharp, as he twice tries to rest this end of the bundle in his palm then quickly shifts it up. A… Continue reading Featherlies
Midsummer
Did you ever wonder how the fairies and lovers could, semi-dressed, spend the night in a woods in the third week of June in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream? After three Mays in England, I can explain how June can be mid-summer. Of the four warm sunny days that occur each year, two fall before… Continue reading Midsummer
Cruella Deville
The half hour before the park closes. Nearly empty of people. At the outdoor cafe, a streetperson, dressed in black, zipping his black bag. The white police van slowly making its way to the far gate. Lovers oblivious to time. Dogs leashed and led away. Peacocks parading loose, the males in full colour. Yesterday one… Continue reading Cruella Deville
Unfurling Spring
Is it hunger that makes me see magnolia blossoms as semi-stirred cherry yoghurt, and pink almond blossoms as candy floss? And what's this ahead, forcing us to cross the road? A group of middle-aged people are gathered on the sidewalk in front of a building under scaffolding. (Construction carries on through the winter here.) Short… Continue reading Unfurling Spring
Mud and Fashion
In the field that was a pond two weeks ago, two boys play football (soccer to Canadians). The blonde one slides on the mud, falls onto his back. He laughs and rolls from side to side in the mud, swishing his arms. Like a child making snow angels. Like the dog scratching her back in… Continue reading Mud and Fashion
Lupercalia
After sunset, wind rants along the street, kicking newspapers and plastic bags ahead of it, snapping branches down. Into the lamplight hurry suited young men clutching flowers to their chests. Outside a restaurant a man in a car hurls words at a delivery man standing on the sidewalk, "Move your fucking bike, man."
Errands
Out in the rain running errands, I pass a street person shivering in grey sweats, his palms pressed between his knees. I go into the Starbucks next door and buy a big cup of tea, lash it liberally with milk and sugar, and take it out to him. I proffer him the cup. He shakes… Continue reading Errands
Reprieve
Tube strike from Tuesday evening through to Friday morning. Water causes natural disasters in areas away from London. The South Downs flooded. A rail line washed away in Dawlish on the south coast of Devon. On Wednesday it rained sideways. Yesterday in the park in the straight downpouring rain, empty of nannies and children, a… Continue reading Reprieve
Marking time
Flat rectangular espaliers trap trees onto music stands, their brown leaves notes. Morning sun reveals green fur on the temporary structures of the construction site. Green psoriasis proves that the new roof on the design museum is copper. The Kyoto Garden in Holland Park is forbidden to dogs. Because forbidden, I peer over the hedge… Continue reading Marking time
Street Candy
Ahead of me, a traffic warden in his nasturtium-orange rainwear walks beside a construction worker, his rain pants and vest the colour of an almost ripe lemon. The colours of candy, of a PEZ, of a sweet and sour. Slow in their boots, shoulders touching, they turn out of the rain into the organic coffee… Continue reading Street Candy
Rain Shot
White gulls strewn midfield. Around its periphery run boys in burgundy jerseys and navy shorts. Bulked in layered clothing, hunched away from the mud, I pause, waiting for the oval line of boys to warp, waiting for a boy's dash at the birds. When it comes, the whoops of the boys and the calls of… Continue reading Rain Shot
Sounds
Sounds of Spring in London. The leafblower replaced by the handheld pressurized water cleaner, cleaning slippery green off sidewalks. Birds turning up the volume, showing off. The clop clop of the hooves of the police horses soft under the jackhammering at the construction site. The park gardeners pause in their leaf-gathering to look at the… Continue reading Sounds
DEBRA MARTENS 