This morning when I walked in the desert by the caves I met a young woman walking with a yellow dog She is distracted paying him little attention He stops every ten feet or so to lick the morning dewfall caught in the craters of the rocks that line the dry stream bed We could be on the moon—some distant planet or star except for the sound of the camel bells The yellow dog turns and smiles wags his handsome tail—Its fringes a darker color trail on the sand collecting thorny bits and burrs to be addressed later in front of the evening fire As the celestial orbs exchange places In the darkening sky His mistress retying her keffiyeh in a quick and clever way around her head pulls herself from her reverie and acknowledges my presence I respond to the oh so slight lift of her dark brows Boker Tov—Good morning The yellow dog with a patient expression turns to the sound of the camel bells and moves on sniffing the air making little whining sounds at the back of his throat accompanied by great jaw stretching yawns We have crossed this southern section of the wadi the view from my studio window and continue north together Just above us moving in a snaking line up and around the side of the dune are the camels and their herders The youngest dromedaries are at the end of the line The white ones are especially beautiful— I have often had fantasies of adopting one The smallest whitey calf just weeks old appears to be managing with a little help— from the boy and his dog who keep him on the path Behind the youngsters with the knobby knees— placing one cautious hoof in front of the other A bearded elder cow pulls up the rear bellowing The yellow dog barks back in a contiguous stream of invectives The herdsmen join the fracas—yallah yallah An echo carries the guttural sound aloft and repeats and repeats it as it winds through the wadi all the way to the Dead Sea in the morning and back again at dusk The camels who have begun to smell the promise of water pick up their pace grunting and bellowing The color of the sky changes subtly without notice until a bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder awaken the landscape— We have become so used to drought— that we have stopped thinking about rain In the event that it comes down heavily we must all run to the caves for cover Some of the caves are quite deep littered with the detritus of refuge seekers since time began— It is said that whole armies have retreated here The Bedouins and their camels carry their world with them and can wait out the storm in the caves But the three of us will be trapped by the wadi filling with water Lightning, thunder a plague of hail stones the size of walnuts fall on our heads and pelt our backs— A few odd moments of silence paralyze us before the first tentative drops fall They hit the ground accompanied by a deafening clap of thunder— Lightning zig zags its way to the molten center of the earth And then the biblical rain heralded by a steamy cloud rising up from the sand— and the smell of ozone is quickly followed by raindrops the size of jelly beans Bellowing camels and screaming calves join the chorus of bells and barking dogs Cracks of lightning illuminate the hellish thickened sky The yellow dog sets the pace and leads the way We run behind him pulling in painful searing breaths Through the wadi to the road I can see the studio We are almost there Arad, Israel, 2000/2018; Provincetown, 2025
Hiding Out