May 14th-16th 2018
In honor of Shavuot, we were requested to bring a festive fruit basket to my daughter’s nursery. Devoted mother that I am, I started preparing it immediately. I remembered we had golden stalks of grain growing wild at the edge of our backyard, and I’d eyed them all winter with the thought of using them for Shavuot. I went out to the yard and found golden, though blighted, stalks, and when I tried to pick them I discovered why: every little movement of the ripe stalk made it fall apart and disintegrate. Try as I may, I was left time and again with a golden stem and empty stalk. Although the devoted mother in me was greatly disappointed remembering the strong, beautiful stalks that decorated the kibbutz dining hall of my childhood, I had to admire the wisdom of the wild wheat in my backyard, as well as the patience and devotion of the first farmers who domesticated it over 10,000 years ago.