Citadel Park

Spring has finally sprung here in Colorado. The air is warm and heavily scented with blooming things and the feeling of coming alive , and my dogs have finally decided that they would rather be outside the house than in-thank goodness! Every spring, I'm certain that it is my favorite time of year, until Autumn arrives and I switch sides again. I guess it just means that I'm happy in the space that I'm currently in.

This was an old cemetery we found outside of Tiberius. There were huge, ornate, marble tombstones complete with awnings to keep off the sun, sometimes next to a humble, dilapidated old tomb, weathered and black, with crumbling concrete. Many were piled high with small stones. The stones traditionally take the place of flowers, symbolizing, among other things, the permanence of memory.


 "There is something suiting the antiquity and solidity of Judaism in the symbol of a stone. In moments when we are faced with the fragility of life, Judaism reminds us that there is permanence amidst the pain. While other things fade, stones and souls endure." -Rabbi David Wolpe

Citadel Park

We hiked to a hill above Tzfat (Safed, Zefat etc) to see the ruins of an old crusader fort (in its day the largest castle fort in the Middle East.) The fort sits at the highest point in Safed, the highest city in Israel. I met a man who worked for the archaeology department. He immediately started taking me around the site telling me what to photograph and giving me a all the information he thought I should know.


He was quite sure that Moses and his son Shem used to live here. And also that Iran was spying on the location and if we stood in just the right spot we could flip them the bird. (I will neither confirm nor deny reports that someone may have done just that.)

An unknown person

 Another fellow, a Russian Jew this time, found Chris and was doing his best with limited English to perform as a proper tour guide. He took us into the cave because we had to experience the sound. It was pitch black and we found our way by hands on the wall, trying not to stumble. The path opened up into a chamber of sorts, with a small hole at the top where a bit of light was coming through. Maybe shaped like a huge cistern. He began to softly sing in the darkness, a hauntingly beautiful sound that made you feel like you were in a holy place. The acoustics were incredible.

Then I took a picture. The flash illuminated the room showing off graffiti and an old tattered mattress with the springs poking out, which did spoil the mood a little.

Nearing Sunset