An Israeli Winter

Israel is supposed to be a very hot and sunny place, or I thought that was true until this past winter. Living in Amirim, perched high atop a mountain in northern Israel, the weather proclaims its own kingdom, and Mediterranean this is not.

It has been a long winter of hail, sleet, and snow, along with freezing cold temperatures. During the day, the clouds would huddle in the valley below as if waiting at a bus stop, then sweep up the mountain and swirl through the pines, creating a shield of thick fog. Like shapeshifters, they would slide right under my front door and seep through the window cracks, adding dampness to the chill.

Those who have fireplaces would cozily huddle inside sipping tea, the fire’s smoke twisting from chimneys into the cold night air. Those without fireplaces (like me) would simply freeze while staying indoors. Israeli houses, or at least the ones I know, seem to have windows that entice the cold air inside. The doors have no sweeps, so the cold air finds another way to intrude, nudging underneath. 

As there is no central heating, regular air conditioning units are called upon. They have a so-called ‘heat’ function, but they groan under the stress. I fondly remember those centrally heated houses in Canada where people could comfortably wear a T-shirt inside all winter long, while Jack Frost was safely locked outside to doodle on the windows.

In our house during this Israeli winter, we tried to keep warm using two air conditioning units that have a hole cut into the window screen for the compressor hoses. Sensible piece of engineering, I thought, as I stuffed these wide openings with towels. But still the wind found its way inside. 

So we plugged in a few small electrical heaters that we could move around the house from room to room. These were so tiny and ineffective, Amir called them hair dryers.

Last week, both of the large air conditioning compressors were moaning, with one calling out shakily in a form of a death rattle. I went outside to inspect and saw that it was covered in ice as if it were in the deep Arctic. The other unit simply shivered until we finally turned it off, throwing another coat on top of our layers in order to stay warm.

At this point, I was wearing two pairs of leggings, two sweaters, a hat, and two coats - inside. I would have worn gloves but was unable to type on my keyboard with them on. I so wished I owned a nose warmer (if there even were such a thing) and I was sure I could see my breath. Even my potted pineapples and palm tree called it a day.

The most interesting part was that it was actually colder inside the house than outside. I would often exit the house wearing my regular ski wardrobe of two sweaters and two coats, only to find that I did not need this winter apparel outside.

The cold continued from January, February, and right through March. March is ‘supposed’ to be hot here, but not this year. I have also never seen so much rain. It formed two rivulets down my street, turned potholes into ponds, and clad the trees in moss. 

The rain transformed the earth into squishy red mud which my dogs would then trek across the house. We set up a paw washing station outside the front door complete with bucket, brush, and towels. The dogs would stand outside offering us a paw while we massaged the mud from their feet and fur. 

Yet the mud found its way inside, imprinting the floor with perfectly formed paw prints, which was efficiently caked on, care of the whirling cold air. I would take a mop to ‘depaw’ the floor only to find a fresh red trail readily reappear.

A few days ago, the sun started to wink at us from behind the clouds, revealing magnificent rainbows. While driving one afternoon, I saw four rainbows within a half hour, jumping out of the car to marvel at them like an overexcited child. The clouds retreated, the rain stopped, and a blinding indigo sky had us blinking like badgers.

The sun has now taken full reign, turning this battered mountain enclave into a Mediterranean paradise. There is not a cloud in the sky and I may not see another one float by until November. The sage and lavender are in bloom, the birds are busy nesting, and those mucky puddles have evaporated. 

The walls of this house are warming up and the windows are wide open. I have disbanded the paw washing station and removed the towels from the windows. The ‘hair dryers’ are no longer required and those fatigued air conditioners that are supposedly heaters can finally take a well-needed vacation. 

I can sit now inside with one layer like a regular person. But why stay indoors when spring is beckoning?