Some landscapes reveal themselves only to the patient heart, and Tel Socho is one such place: a small hill in the Elah Valley where heaven seems to touch the earth each spring. The easiest way to reach this spot is by entering “Tel Socho” into Waze. Its also known as Lupine Hill or Givat HaTurmosim

I am fortunate to live just seven minutes by car from this magical spot, where the lupines bloom in breathtaking purple and blue, painting the hills with color that feels almost sacred. For twelve years, I have returned to this hill, camera in hand and heart open, and each visit brings a fresh wonder. Even on mornings when I don’t come home with a single “great” photograph, the visit is enough.

Some years, the lupines bloom in full force, carpeting the hillside in deep purples and blues. Other years, the bloom is more restrained, almost hidden within the grasses. This is Tel Socho. A place that doesn’t perform on demand. It doesn’t guarantee spectacle, which is perhaps that part of the blessing. It simply does what it has always done: it rests through the winter and returns in the spring, and maybe that’s what keeps drawing me back. Perhaps, it is the quiet reminder that even after difficult seasons, life has a way of pushing through again.

In recent years, I noticed something remarkable: following times of national grief, the lupines seemed subdued, as if the land itself bore the weight of sorrow. Now, after hope and relief have returned, the flowers emerge in full glory, vibrant and radiant, a living testament to resilience and renewal, and the intertwined spirit of the Land of Israel and its people.

My favorite time to photograph the lupines is at sunrise. I often arrive before dawn, when the air is cool and the valley feels suspended between night and day. As the first light breaks over the Judean lowlands, the hill slowly awakens. Sometimes the sky burns with dramatic clouds, streaked in gold and crimson. Other mornings are soft and pale, wrapped in quiet humility. In those moments, standing among the flowers, I am reminded of the ancient verse: “The heavens declare the glory of God.”

Tel Socho during wildflower season feels like stepping into a living tapestry. It is not only the lupines that define the landscape, but a broader chorus of color — red poppies, yellow mustard flowers, delicate whites and vibrant greens woven together across the hillside. Spring in this valley is not subtle; it is a proclamation. After months of muted winter tones, the land bursts forth in color, as if fulfilling the promise that life will return.

This region carries deep historical resonance. The Elah Valley is woven into biblical memory, a landscape that has witnessed shepherds, soldiers, travelers, and generations who walked these paths long before us. To stand here at sunrise is to feel, even faintly, that continuity, to walk the same hills, see the same sky, and experience the same cycles of growth and renewal.

What continually moves me is how everything comes alive at once. The flowers bloom, birds call out, insects hum, and the light shifts moment by moment. It feels less like observing nature and more like witnessing creation renewed. For a brief window each year, this modest hill becomes a sanctuary of color, of quiet awe, and of sacred wonder.

The lupines of Tel Socho do not bloom for long. Their season is fleeting, almost fragile. And perhaps that is what makes it sacred. Beauty here is entrusted to us only for a short while, which serves as a gentle reminder of the fragility and grace of life. I leave each visit with a heart full of gratitude — for the light, for the renewal, and for the privilege of living so close to a place where the hills turn purple and the valley once again sings of life, hope, and enduring wonder.

To discover more of Israel’s beauty — its landscapes, people, beaches, cities, and spirit through my lens, please visit my website www.photography-israel.com

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)