It’s something about reverence.
And thanks.
Yeeha!
Some is still very much alive. (Note as well the turf house, towards you from the house just behind the hill, and the other old buildings along the slope to the right.) When the whole country is a museum, that people live in, even the two-legged sort, it’s not a museum. It’s a place stripped of what doesn’t belong. That junk is put into second hand shops in Reykjavik, in the hope that people from far away are going to take it back with them where it came from.
It is a very proud, and very quiet, nationalism.
If humans could move at their speed, they would still be swirling, but we are so fast that they appear still. We are light flickering on the surface of these flows.
In some countries, fences are to separate herds from grain land, or to divide pasture land, for successive grazing over a season, or just to keep the stock off the road. In Iceland, it’s a bit different. It’s something people learned from the land and tried out. 
I suggest sticking in your toe before committing yourself completely. 
Even if your horse has gone ahead. 
It can wait. 
Here are some in the very process of being washed from the land. 
Perhaps you can see a clutch lying in a young sea in the middle of the image? 
Of course, the sea’s eggs are the land’s eggs, too. 
They do it together! 
Above Hrafragilsfoss
A Farm in Iceland 