Illustration by Jaimee Lee Haddad.
A letter to the trees, On a fall Sunday, in this year of war, we trekked up to plant you, little saplings of Arz and Lezzeb. We’re 2,700 meters above sea level. Welcome to the nooks and crannies of Lebanon’s highest peak. You’ll be safe up here, I hope. It seems weird to be tree planting in these times. While destruction and chaos rain down from above, sowing their discord everywhere and in between, we’ve dug some holes, hauled some manure and water up a mountain, and we’re going to make sure that you’re well-fed before winter arrives.You’re a good half hour drive from the nearest paved road, and far from the humans down below. Even the telecom towers can’t reach. Yet the ruckus in the skies as two Israeli jets fly overhead is a reminder that war has permeated sea, land and sky, for yet another year. A nursery took good care of you,...
A letter to the trees, On a fall Sunday, in this year of war, we trekked up to plant you, little saplings of Arz and Lezzeb. We’re 2,700 meters above sea level. Welcome to the nooks and crannies of Lebanon’s highest peak. You’ll be safe up here, I hope. It seems weird to be tree planting in these times. While destruction and chaos rain down from above, sowing their discord everywhere and in between, we’ve dug some holes, hauled some manure and water up a mountain, and we’re going to make sure that you’re well-fed before winter arrives.You’re a good half hour drive from the nearest paved road, and far from the humans down below. Even the telecom towers can’t reach. Yet the ruckus in the skies as two Israeli jets fly overhead is a reminder that war has permeated sea, land and sky, for yet another year. A nursery took good...