It’s not about fences, see.
That was a fun idea, very modern, very worldly, but, you know, weird. Better to let sleeping fences lie and go out on the sheep trails.
Everything is a sheep trail. That’s because sheep own Iceland.
Right, as for fences. The same goes for gates. Best to leave weird foreign stuff like that open, so that what wants to go through can go through.
You never know.
Oh, wait, yes you do.
You might as well mix it up, eh.
In Iceland, even the grass has a mind of its own.
And the clouds.
This makes farming hard. There are even traffic rules for tractors in downtown Reykjavik!!!!!
Well, you can always make some art.
And the geese have run away for the day.
Under the cover of the rain.
Sheep, too.
Just try to make a living like that!
Can’t even walk across your field without breaking a hoof.
And the fields are vertical. Tricksy.
And your horses are begging from passersby.
Sheesh.
You wind up commuting into town for work, that’s what.
Danger in that in summer too. Not enough tourists in the summer in the rain to keep down the grass.
Note to self: bring a weed whacker.
After all, gas is expensive.
And the artists have gone strange.
It’s not normal, you know.
Good thing there’s golf!
Well, yeah, the wind’s blowing, but, hey, you know. You can always pretend its not there.
Right?
Right! 
In Canada, the trail running across the foot of this face would have been made by deer, but in Iceland it’s made by sheep.
In Canada, this would be called wild land. In Iceland, it’s a farm. It is an intimate social and political space that turns wildness into civil life. In Canada, that is done as either an industrial or an aesthetic experience, capitalized and individual. Here it is just common space. In other words, this stretch of the Bessastaðaá is a city.
In a land of many stones at the top of the world, where it can, shh don’t tell anyone from the Icelandic Tourism Office, get cold…
… rocks contract from the flatness to stay warm.
Going flat is a sure way to lose all your heat, and it’s a long way to the merino wool shops at the mall in Reykjavik, and how are you going to walk there when you’re a rock? Nope, rounding up it is. Plants, being more evolved, follow suit, because they’re smart.
Now you know too. Shh. Don’t tell anyone from the clothing shops of Reykjavik or they might open a branch up north. Here’s an ad for one geared for humans, that endearing lot. They started up north, then moved south where the humans are. A flag for everyone, to make everyone feel at home.
Here’s a version from half-ways to the north. This ewe has donated half her fleece to a stone, by the looks of it.
But what would a stone make of this?
This?
And what would a stone make of this?
This?
No, when you’re a rock, it’s better to clump up with your friends.
No, not like this:
Brrr!
The newest shoot of grass growing on a bit of volcanic wasteland for the first time ever in the history of the world, that’s the one that tastes best to a sheep, and they will risk life and hoof to get it.
Marauders in Stekkalækur
They’re Icelandic, hence very independent. No sherpas needed.
Keeping us safe where no man dares live any longer.
Hraunhafnartangaviti lies 800 m. south of the Arctic Circle. Much of Siberia washes up on shore.
Be quick. You have competition.
Bilberries in Seydisfjörður
Look closely now!
Yes, competition.
Iceland’s Secret Bilberry Team
Count the legs. Very secret work!
What, you didn’t think they ate grass, did you? In this rain? The Icelandic summer has to have some perks!
