The winter rains had left ever canyon and crevice full of green growth. Miniature butterflies flitted from little orange flowers to little purple flowers.
We set up our tents, built a fire, and drank hot soup. Our desert adventure had just begun.
There were bright green birds, black birds with orange bellies, and little fat gray birds. They flitted between the low bushes on the sides of the path, welcoming us to Nahal Mishmar.
Little streams trickle between large, flat rocks. A palpable silence fills the space inside the canyon.
We collapsed into our seats, every muscle feeling it. It had been an incredible, an almost impossible, a totally uniquely beautiful day.