In mid-November, there is no break between sunrise and sunset, just a switch in the spectrum. Here’s the pink morning light at Hafnarskógar, looking up to Hafnarfell.
As you can see, when you live in such light, you become inspired.
And the moon shines all day. Here it is around 2 pm, looking out Rauðanes way. Enough to inspire anyone.
At this time of day, the blue and pink start mixing it up.
An hour later, over on Rauðanes, it gives a last splash…
And then darkens …
… and both deepens and thins at the same time …
Tungokollur over Borgarnes
… until the next morning when it begins again, later yet.
It’s a wonder every Icelander isn’t a painter.
At 11 p.m. in August.
At midnight, you look West and forget churches altogether.
In Iceland, trees wash up on the beach after swimming over from Siberia, which is fun.
Their purpose is much like that of moose antlers in Canada or Alaska: nail them to the front door to honour wilderness… or a viking ship mast. Or a viking curse.
This is why Icelanders are such fine film makers. They are good at staging dramas in real time.
So your car breaks down in Iceland and you don’t have the money to send it to a smithy? What’s to do?
Here, have a closer look.
Of course, maybe the neighbour put up the prayer. It’s hard to say.