Jack and I. Speeding through the Israeli countryside, windows wide, warm wind rushing through the car, streaming through my hair. Stereo cranked, Paul Simon pouring out into the sunny fields, feeding the lushness that surrounds us.

Looking around, I'm pretty sure most people don't realize what Israel is really like, and I tell Jack this. Before I met him, before I came here, I thought Israel was really just a big desert. I couldn't have been more confused.

We pass fields upon fields of lush green fruit trees - miles of orange trees, overripe fruit hanging fatly from their branches. Lemons, clementines, huge avocado trees. The ground is cluttered with a rainbow of swollen fruit.

Where there are no fruit trees, flowering trees line the roads. They are positively dripping with fuschia, crimson, tangerine blooms that seem to glow in the early morning light.

We are heading for Kviche ha Hoff, the Beach Road, which will take us straight to Tel Aviv. We are flying, enjoying Paul Simon, and since everyone knows that it is impossible to listen to him without singing along, I do...

A man walks down the street

It's a street in a strange world

Maybe it's the Third World

Maybe it's his first time around

He doesn't speak the language

He holds no currency

He is a foreign man

He is surrounded by the sound

The sound

Cattle in the marketplace

Scatterlings and orphanages

He looks around, around

He sees angels in the architecture

Spinning in infinity

He says Amen! and Hallelujah!

My eyes prickle for a second, in wonder and pleasure at being where I am. I bounce around in my seat, through The Obvious Child, Late in the Evening, Bernadette, Kodachrome, Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes.
Jack drums his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat, and I sing to him and the fruit and the flowers and the trees with all my heart.

How could life be better? The sky is clear, the sun is warm, traffic is smooth, and I think it's the start of another good day.