Hot, so very hot it is.
The midday sun scorches through the shade. In minutes, in the sticky heat, one’s shirt clings to the skin like hot wet paste.
But high on Mount Carmel, with a dry breeze rising in the late afternoon, drifting across hectares of flatland to lick up the hillside, nothing gives more pleasure than its cool caress.
There is little to differ between the indoors and outdoors. With the soft air streaming through wide open windows, the walls seem not to exist. In the early morning, what delight it is to have the sweet-fragranced breezes blow through the bedsheets.