Of gardeners and trees

Getting a new house is the brass ring of kibbutz life. When you join a kibbutz your name goes on the bottom of a list. Every time the kibbutz decides to build new houses, the next people on the list get the call and so it goes. Year after year you inch your way up until you get the call.

Then comes a year and a half of frenzied, obsessive activity: deciding on a floor plan, choosing tiles, a kitchen, cupboards and closets, and where on earth am I supposed to stick the computer? After dealing with the parade of carpenters, electricians, plumbers and brick layers, the last one to deal with is the Garden Guy.

The negotiations with Garden Guy were good training if I ever decide to join the diplomatic corps. Now, I am not a gardener. I love to see growing things, but I don't want to spend my afternoons with my hands in the dirt. So low-maintenance was the key. I definitely wanted wisteria on the pergola. "No point," said Garden Guy, "the flowers will all be on the roof." My pergola won't have a roof. I wanted some lime trees. "You can have one, and you'll have to pay for it." Lavender around the house and bamboo out back. "No problem." What about the front of the house, something beautiful and colorful like bougainvillea? "No. Bougainvillea grows too big and it has thorns, not very welcoming." (This last bit was a good point.) So what can I have? "Cypress trees."

Before I came to Israel the only cypresses I knew were the kind that grow in the swamps of Florida dripping with Spanish moss. I didn't know that the tall, skinny trees you see in Italian renaissance paintings are also cypresses. It's a wonderful choice for the front of the house -- architectural and elegant. I think of this as I look out my window. I'm happy to see that they've doubled in size in the past two years, and I have to doff my hat in thanks to the Garden Guy.