Well, rock. Drift rock.
In the glacial outwash floods that overwhelmed Kirkjubær, it is a thing. If it wasn’t for little tufts of moss clinging to the roots of grass, the whole Island might have washed away by now.
The rock is full of air.
Here it is up-close:
Kind of like styrofoam, really. Every bubble chamber in the rock is a time capsule of a wee bit of a volcanic eruption. Grass even roots in it and sucks that old gas in.
How cool is that!
Fly fishers begin by observing insects along a stream. Their art follows.
Knitters are just as attentive to the natural world. Here, in a surf of lava cinders, new sweaters begin.
People follow the warmth of this care home.
If you think this hraun in Kirkjubær is barren …
… please stop what you’re doing, because it’s making you think of someplace else.
The angelic sheep of Skogarkot!
Pahoe-hoe lava in Þingvellir National Park
When you can read it you know you have begun to spend enough time alone with the earth. This is the natural enlightenment.
This entry was posted in
Enlightenment, Huldúfolk, Land and tagged angel, Iceland, lava, pahoe-hoe lava, Reading, Skogakot, solitude, Thingvellir National Park on . January 24, 2017