עץ הרימון נתן ריחו - But who enjoys this scent, actually? 

And how could it be from the Dead Sea to Jericho, when even when standing directly under the bush (bush, by the way, not tree), there is no scent at all? Poetry and artists work in mysterious ways…

Lately, pomegranates remind me of another song by a women's band called a-wa that sing in Yemenite.

I absolutely love the smell of citrus blossoms.

If you happen to see a woman who, by all signs looks normal, is standing under a clementines tree, or oranges or lemons simply smelling and sniffing the air with a look of deep pleasure - don't worry, and don't cross the road to the other side, it's just me inhaling as much of this perfume as possible before the fragrance period is over and the fruits begin to develop.

Pineapple always seems to me like a fruit that is not only exotic, but simply drawn out of a fairy tale, a fruit that is eaten only on special occasions, and if you happen to find it in your fruit box it is a real celebration.

Maybe because fresh pineapple was once perceived like a fairy tale.

How intriguing? Apparently, this is the local name of the Peruvian Apple, and it turns out that its Hebrew name is "desert apple".

You can actually guess why (or at least I'm trying to guess): it is round and reddish  on the outside, like an apple, and it is very suitable for growing in the desert because it actually grows on a cactus - quite a surprise since the Peruvian Apple, that is, the Pitaya, has no thorns.