in the Hitarádalur, the mountains are playful.
Of them all, though, Rauðakúla is the most joyful.
That’s not a lens flair effect. That’s the mountain at play.
There are rewards for turning your back on the sun when it goes behind the hill.
Some things are best watched obliquely, eh.
Notice how little attention the seals are paying to either global warming or humans attracted to global warming and seals.
There’s a lovely crowd of them off of the mouth of the glacial river flowing out of the glacial lagoon these days, but, to tell the truth, if you go the the Selfljót and look for them in the estuary at the tide change you will have a lot more fun, even if you don’t see a single one.
This was the Iceland that Gunnar left for Denmark, and the one he returned to when war threatened the world. It’s still there, if you look for it, because even if Gunnar didn’t find it again, and you aren’t likely to, either, with a little luck the search will be the finding. Iceland will change you, if you work at it.
Go slow, don’t muss your hair, don’t touch, dominate by force of will alone (you have at least a thousand years to work it out), and, of course, don’t muss your hair.
Looking good on the Brunahraun.
I found it three days ago. It’s waiting for you on the estuary of the Selfljót.
Please come pick it up.
At Starmyri 2A, they already know. Here’s the gas station, lovingly decorated with whale bones, sheep heads and pretty rocks, with a view out over the lagoon that lured the road east when it formed.
The birds were singing in this sculpture last night. It was the only sound.