For nearly a year, I’ve been waiting for this paper to go back to print. And now, I feel as though I’ve been reunited with a long-lost love—namely, an inimitable connection with readers. Thank you for choosing to read my words. I consider it an indescribable privilege.
Those who have read my weekly columns during the pandemic know that in the past eighteen months, I’ve essentially regressed into a 1950s housewife, as, like many mothers, my professional pursuits took a backseat as I quickly morphed into a chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, teacher, medic, entertainer and hair stylist (I rue the day I tried to give myself bangs).
In January, my father was hospitalized with COVID-19 and pneumonia. This terrible experience resulted in three changes: I immediately let go of petty grudges and began showing my loved ones unabashed love; I tried dying my roots myself to cover all those stress-induced gray hairs, only to have an allergic reaction that turned my scalp azure blue; and I sought comfort in the warm, cheesy arms of Wacky Mac each night while my father was hospitalized. I gained five pounds in nearly one week.
Between my hand-sown watermelon and that squirrel, I felt like a Disney princess surrounded by lush plant life and obedient creatures.
Yes, I became an apron-wearing June Cleaverzadeh and a pasta-hoarding, worried daughter. But this summer, I also became something I never imagined: a watermelon farmer.
At a local garden nursery, I bought a “Sugar Baby” watermelon plant with two dangling melons, each the size of a golf ball. “How sweet,” my mother said when she saw it in a pot on my balcony. She then proceeded to place three giant melons, including a Hami melon, on my kitchen table, adding, “Your melons are cute, but don’t be delusional. This is the real stuff.”
“How long will they take to grow full-sized?” asked my father with a devilishly hungry look on his face. The man has never met a melon he hasn’t carved. I quickly shooed him away toward the kitchen to set to work dicing my mother’s unsolicited (and clearly superior) offerings.
Soon, I found myself squatting on the balcony and talking to the Sugar Baby watermelon plant, encouraging it to grow and thrive. Once or twice, I chased a plucky squirrel that tried to eat from a birdfeeder off of the balcony. But between my hand-sown watermelon and that squirrel, I felt like a Disney princess surrounded by lush plant life and obedient creatures. Yes, that’s as close as I came to channeling Snow White in Pico-Robertson.
But I learned so much from those two small melons: Don’t waste your precious energy trying to rush something that follows its own timeline; don’t judge someone (or something) for what you perceive as a lack of growth, because there may be a bounty of activity beneath, in the metaphoric (or, in this case, literal) roots. And don’t ignore anything (or anyone) whom you love. Find small ways to connect and engage every day. I was known to sing Persian limericks to my precious watermelons, and I may have even read them the news from time to time.
I also learned to put my need to control everything aside, especially when I had to restrain myself from giving the plant water on Shabbat, even when it looked desperately parched (Jews are not permitted to water plants on Shabbat).
A few weeks ago, my husband and I took the kids on a three-day vacation. When I returned home, both melons were gone. A squirrel had ripped them off of the vine and ran off with his bounty. Whether he rolled them off of the balcony like small boulders is anyone’s guess.
It was a humbling lesson in the impermanence of life (and the need for mesh wire netting).
This week, I’ll be planting a dwarf pomegranate tree on my balcony in honor of Rosh Hashanah. If the squirrel bites into its beautiful fruit, this summer has taught me that there’s only one thing I can do: Hope the creature enjoys a year of sweetness, fertility, and numerous good deeds.
Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker and civic action activist. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby
How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Again)
Tabby Refael
For nearly a year, I’ve been waiting for this paper to go back to print. And now, I feel as though I’ve been reunited with a long-lost love—namely, an inimitable connection with readers. Thank you for choosing to read my words. I consider it an indescribable privilege.
Those who have read my weekly columns during the pandemic know that in the past eighteen months, I’ve essentially regressed into a 1950s housewife, as, like many mothers, my professional pursuits took a backseat as I quickly morphed into a chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, teacher, medic, entertainer and hair stylist (I rue the day I tried to give myself bangs).
In January, my father was hospitalized with COVID-19 and pneumonia. This terrible experience resulted in three changes: I immediately let go of petty grudges and began showing my loved ones unabashed love; I tried dying my roots myself to cover all those stress-induced gray hairs, only to have an allergic reaction that turned my scalp azure blue; and I sought comfort in the warm, cheesy arms of Wacky Mac each night while my father was hospitalized. I gained five pounds in nearly one week.
Yes, I became an apron-wearing June Cleaverzadeh and a pasta-hoarding, worried daughter. But this summer, I also became something I never imagined: a watermelon farmer.
At a local garden nursery, I bought a “Sugar Baby” watermelon plant with two dangling melons, each the size of a golf ball. “How sweet,” my mother said when she saw it in a pot on my balcony. She then proceeded to place three giant melons, including a Hami melon, on my kitchen table, adding, “Your melons are cute, but don’t be delusional. This is the real stuff.”
“How long will they take to grow full-sized?” asked my father with a devilishly hungry look on his face. The man has never met a melon he hasn’t carved. I quickly shooed him away toward the kitchen to set to work dicing my mother’s unsolicited (and clearly superior) offerings.
Soon, I found myself squatting on the balcony and talking to the Sugar Baby watermelon plant, encouraging it to grow and thrive. Once or twice, I chased a plucky squirrel that tried to eat from a birdfeeder off of the balcony. But between my hand-sown watermelon and that squirrel, I felt like a Disney princess surrounded by lush plant life and obedient creatures. Yes, that’s as close as I came to channeling Snow White in Pico-Robertson.
But I learned so much from those two small melons: Don’t waste your precious energy trying to rush something that follows its own timeline; don’t judge someone (or something) for what you perceive as a lack of growth, because there may be a bounty of activity beneath, in the metaphoric (or, in this case, literal) roots. And don’t ignore anything (or anyone) whom you love. Find small ways to connect and engage every day. I was known to sing Persian limericks to my precious watermelons, and I may have even read them the news from time to time.
I also learned to put my need to control everything aside, especially when I had to restrain myself from giving the plant water on Shabbat, even when it looked desperately parched (Jews are not permitted to water plants on Shabbat).
A few weeks ago, my husband and I took the kids on a three-day vacation. When I returned home, both melons were gone. A squirrel had ripped them off of the vine and ran off with his bounty. Whether he rolled them off of the balcony like small boulders is anyone’s guess.
It was a humbling lesson in the impermanence of life (and the need for mesh wire netting).
This week, I’ll be planting a dwarf pomegranate tree on my balcony in honor of Rosh Hashanah. If the squirrel bites into its beautiful fruit, this summer has taught me that there’s only one thing I can do: Hope the creature enjoys a year of sweetness, fertility, and numerous good deeds.
Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker and civic action activist. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby
Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.
Editor's Picks
Israel and the Internet Wars – A Professional Social Media Review
The Invisible Student: A Tale of Homelessness at UCLA and USC
What Ever Happened to the LA Times?
Who Are the Jews On Joe Biden’s Cabinet?
You’re Not a Bad Jewish Mom If Your Kid Wants Santa Claus to Come to Your House
No Labels: The Group Fighting for the Political Center
Latest Articles
A Moment in Time: God’s Birthday
A Bisl Torah — Spiritual Enslavement
On That Day – A poem for Parsha Ki Tisa
Purim and the Ten Commandments
Gavin Newsom Is No Jack Kennedy
Print Issue: Iran | March 5, 2026
Diving, Luxury and Wild Discoveries in Central Florida on The Jet Set TV
In a Pickle– A Turshi Recipe
Tangy, bright and filled with irresistible umami flavor, turshi is the perfect complement to burgers, kebabs and chicken, as well as the perfect foil for eggs and salads.
Sweet Kugel Recipes for National Noodle Month
Nothing says Jewish comfort food like sweet noodle kugel.
Table for Five: Ki Tisa
Understanding The Divine
Re-Reading Persia: Thoughts on an Ancient Text in a Modern Moment
On Purim, re-reading Persia, we stand at the intersection of the past and this very moment. May we merit not merely a temporary cessation of war, but true peace — the ultimate end of all conflict.
The War in Iran: Revolution, Assassination, Reconstruction
As Israel is learning in Gaza, achieving regime change from the outside, without a commitment to deep and continuous involvement, is a difficult task.
Who Knows?
When future generations tell your story and mine, which parts will look obvious in hindsight? What opportunities will we have leveraged — and decisions made — that define our legacy?
Nostalgia for the ‘80s and ‘90s and the Lost World of Third Spaces
The nostalgia attached to the ’80s and ’90s often comes from a world where public hanging-out was built into daily life.
You Heard It Here First, Folks!
For over half a decade, I had seen how the slow drip of antisemitism, carefully enveloped in the language of social justice and human rights, had steadily poisoned people whom I had previously considered perfectly reasonable.
Bringing the Best of Diaspora Jewry to Israel
Today, amid rising global antisemitism and uncertainty in the Diaspora, many Anglos considering aliyah are searching not only for housing but for belonging.
Trump’s Critics Have a Lot Riding on the Iran Conflict
Their assumptions about the attack on Iran are based on a belief in the resilience of an evil terrorist regime, coupled with a conviction that Trump’s belief in the importance of the U.S.-Israel alliance is inherently wrong.
The Snake, the Shepherd’s Crook, and the Eye of the Sun: Uncovering the Haggadah’s Hidden Meaning
As Bar Ilan University professor Joshua Berman engagingly and convincingly demonstrates in his “Echoes of Egypt” Haggadah, the process by which the Passover story took shape was as a polemic against the belief system and symbols of authority of Pharaoh and his people.
The Night Watch: How Hundreds of U.S. Volunteers Support Israel Through the Night
We may never know each other’s names. We may never meet. Yet for those minutes, across oceans, time zones, and screens, we share something deeply human.
Me Llamo Miguel
With Purim having just passed, I’ve been thinking about how Jews have been disguising ourselves over the years.
The Hope of Return
This moment calls for moral imagination. For solidarity with the Iranian people demanding dignity. For sustained support of those who seek a freer future.
Stranded by War
We are struggling on two fronts: we worry about friends and family, and we are preoccupied with our own “survival” on a trip extended beyond our control.
Tuning Up Trouble: Daniel Roher Turns a Piano Tuner into a Master Safe-Cracker
In the film, Leo Woodall plays Niki White, a gifted young piano tuner in New York whose heightened auditory abilities allow him to detect even the faintest mechanical sounds.
Love Letters to Israel
Looking around at the tears, laughter, and joy after two years of hell, the show was able to not just touch but nourish our souls.
Neil Sedaka, Brooklyn-Born Hit-Maker, Dies at 86
Neil Sedaka was born March 13, 1939 in Brooklyn, New York, the son of Mac and Eleanor Sedaka. His father was Sephardic and his mother Ashkenazi; Sedaka was a transliteration of the Hebrew “tzedakah.”
Even When the Missiles Fall, We Never Forget to Dance
Can you imagine what it’s like to read about a Persian prime minister seeking to destroy the Jews – as the Jewish army is finally fighting back with the American army against the Persian Jew-haters?
More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.