The more I write, the more likely it is you’ll notice a theme
of how I moved around a lot for about 20 years. Perhaps I’ll focus on that at
some point, just talk through the timeline of the adventures I’ve been fortunate
to have and the places school, work, and life have taken me. Wherever I have been,
I’ve tried to find familiarity while being open to how that place can change me,
how I can learn and grow. That feels fancier than it is; usually, that has
manifested by me trying a bunch of fun restaurants and breweries. It has also
meant a lot of great hikes and other outdoor adventures. For today, I just want
to focus on the walk I just finished.
Well, I’ll focus on that shortly. Give me a minute to add context. Another throughline is my Jewish practice. All three words are important. It’s what I have chosen to do to explore and reflect how I connect with Judaism. [Note that I’m excluding walking alongside Amy on her conversion journey. We’re still building what our Jewish practices are.] Mostly, that meant going home or hosting people for holiday meals* (Scroll down. Maybe I'll learn HTML and fix this later). Sometimes, I attended or called into services. I’ve brought a menorah all over the country to light Hanukkah candles [future post placeholder]. Often, I have not been home in time to help build the sukkah my dad designed for our deck. I still have fond memories of suspending myself among the 2x4s and along the deck railing to help assemble it. That brings me back to my walk; we’re in the middle of Sukkot.
Almost three years ago, I listened to an episode of Chutzpod about Sukkot. It included a little section on finding your own lulav and etrog. I encourage you to listen to the episode for more, and this Wikipedia article on the Four Species is a handy little guide. I read a little bit from the Local Lulav post, though I’ll admit I didn’t full explore it. I thought this exercise might be a way to connect to here. I’m still excited to be so close to so many friends, there are a ton of things I like to do (and eat) in the area, and this house is comfortable and comforting. Sometimes, the neighborhood is just where we live, so I wanted to use this Jewish practice to connect to this specific place just a little more. Armed with that information and motivation, I walked along the trail that runs behind our house, looking for my own local lulav.
Etrog: smell and taste, the heart. Black walnut
Let’s start with the one I had already figured out before I
set out on my walk. There are a bunch of black walnut trees around here. The
fruits look like tennis balls and are near the tennis court, so I honestly just
chuckled when I walked by them for a while, not realizing what they were. I didn’t
pursue this endeavor fully,
but I had to pick one up. I suppose the connection is more about the shape than
anything, but I do enjoy the smell and taste of walnuts. Maybe I’ll figure out
how to use the walnut oil that has been in my pantry for a while…
Lulav: taste but no smell, the spine. Morrow’s honeysuckle
At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what this one is. Google
lens told me it was this, and it was growing alongside the stream, so I picked
it. Plus, it’s a little sturdier than the others, so there’s a little
lulav-ness to it. Today is well past when the local honeysuckle is going to
produce anything that tastes good, but I enjoy those little drops of nectar
when it’s the right season. Especially as I gear up to return to Charlottesville
this weekend for the first time in years, this reminds me of walking between
friends’ homes and picking honeysuckle off the bushes along Fontaine.
Hadass: smell but no taste, the eye. Hay-scented fern
I noticed a few abundant ferns along my walk. The first
bunch were Christmas ferns, which didn’t feel quite right for this exercise,
but then I found some hay-scented ferns. These might be the closest analog to
the original lulav of my bunch. They smell sweet and grassy like hay, especially
near the base.
Aravah: neither smell nor taste, the mouth. American burnweed
This was the first one I found after the walnut. There were
two stalks sticking out of a marshy area, maybe four feet tall, where
everything around it was still quite low. The connection to the holiday is a little
less clear, but they represent today’s walk. I enjoyed reading a little about
it as I walked: it often grows quickly after a fire, the leaves can be used in
a salad, it has medicinal properties, and it is good at fixing atmospheric
nitrogen dioxide, helping a little bit against climate change.
***
With my four species gathered, I stopped toward the end of my walk and said the prayers. I’ve called this the 2025 edition with the hope that I’ll build on it. We don’t have a sukkah, nor can we really have one here, but perhaps at our next place. With more time to reflect and perhaps do some research, 2026’s four species might be different. Going for my walk and writing this made for a fulfilling day. I’ll report back in future years.
*Allow me a quick aside about tradition and practice that is important but perhaps isn’t enough for its own post. I like bringing people together for a meal. You know this if you read my other post that includes the origins of Supper Club or have lived anywhere near me along my travels. I often think about something my grandfather Mickey said at a Jewish holiday gathering, maybe Rosh Hashanah. It was along the lines of, “This is so nice. Why don’t we do this more often?” Living as far apart as we all did (and do), it just wasn’t feasible. We could have tried to plan more family gatherings—perhaps having smaller ones interspersed among the bigger ones is the move—but leaning on the beats of the Jewish calendar helped get everyone together by keeping expectations clear.
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