Where......the river flows - I

Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about the sixth hour. - John 4:6

Jacob's well!! Jesus sighs. A story of a thousand years and five hundred comes tumbling back. Years rolled away, to a clear, clear day. I was there!! A thrill of remembrance.

For everyone else - Jacob's name is but a revered memory. Just a foggy memory - they told me about that old man in the synagogue when I was a child. They told me about Joseph too - some tale of jealousy, a doting father and a journey to Egypt. Just a story....who knows. They say this - this is the well. At least the water hasn't run dry...... who knows whether Jacob really existed? Who cares... a thousand years and five hundred anyway. And the story has certainly run its course, surely it's over.

Townspeople walk by.....who is this handsome stranger? He looks like a Jew - so what does a Jew want here?

Jesus......runs his hand over the stones. Yes....Jacob. Israel, actually, that's the name I gave him - what a man he had been! No one remembers or cares, but this whole story started there, in one sense. Actually with his grandfather Abraham. "Descendants like the sand on the seashore", I told him. Hmmmmmm. A thousand years and five hundred later.....here they live, walk and make their lives. My promise has long been forgotten - the 'descendants' are here, but they don't know a thing about their past, where they came from.

Does anyone really dare to think the story's not over yet? For the few who believe, no it's not over...not till eternity, no..... the 'seed of Abraham', well, they're not all here yet. They will come from the farthest corners of the earth. All through the ages. They will be one. No one but me will be able to count them. Abraham will see it!!!! In years to come, they will be tourists here....and they will remember this day. They will tell the story to their children, to their children's children. This well...... will be revered.

That's all later. For now.....let me play my part. Let me WRITE history.

I'm bushed..... let me sit down here, and remember my son Israel and my son Joseph. What a sweet memory! How dearly Israel loved Joseph! I kept Joseph in the palm of my hand - my wings overshadowed him all through. Israel....will see him again. He isn't dead! He's in my hand.

Memory lulls my tired head....to sleep. Let me put my head on these stones. Israel will remember that so well!!!! A stone pillow.

My little fluff-ball

This little fellow gets no press.

But that's just it - he wasn't meant for any. If you saw him, you best just watch him bring peace to your own soul. You don't (really) (necessarily) go out and TELL anyone you actually saw him.


In any case, no decent Indian lists worth the name have much to say about this chap. Oh yes, listed he is, but sadly, he is migrant. He doesn't even belong here most of the time. He just spends the winter here. So.....most people here don't even know him.

Winter...is almost over. Gone are the days when we wore thermal stuff. The town thaws. Trees lose their leaves. Everything's bare. Gone are the first iced-out mornings when you passed by a lovely green thicket and heard a "tchuck". You looked. You craned your eyes. But never one did you see. This endearing little fluff-ball is hard to see. But he lets you know he's there. That "tchuck" is one of the most comforting sounds promising a snug winter. And the Blyth's Reed Warbler........forages industriously through the thicket.


And God alone knows from where he comes. He's been halfway round the world, surely.....Iceland, Alaska, Finland.....Argentina perhaps. Or even Australia. Should ask someone to lay in wait for him on Christmas Island. And then come winter and he's back here...to his favourite thicket. Another of life's miracles just unfolded.......

Come April, he will leave again......back halfway across the planet. To another thicket, another moor... somewhere on this planet.

Come back soon, my little fluff-ball!!! I'm gonna tend that thicket very lovingly.....for you.

Meat-deprived foodie cravings (don't look in my eyes now)

It's gonna be a crazy, crazy day.

But early enough, a sweater, jeans and a jacket. Pastrami on rye and a large pickle. With a hot pot of coffee. And no one around in the Deli. Early morning light streaming in through the windows. Not many people about.....

That'll do just fine. Can take anyone on after that :)

Sometimes a crazy craving for pastrami on rye so consumes me.............. No decent deli worth the name in this 'ere town :(((( !!!!!!!