Happiness

The secret to happiness, I think, is not more complex than enjoying an amazing playdate with a beautiful friend.

Night

Warm, dark nights are uncommon here so far north.

Tonight a rare aspect shows, though: a tree that has just burst forth its new green leaves (the first on the block to do so) is lit by a streetlamp on a calm, balmy May midnight, with a purply-blue sky as backdrop. Soon the days will lengthen into forever and the stars and moon will disappear as the sun takes over for a season and we'll almost forget what they look like, their charm and twinkle.

They never leave us, though, which is a good thing to know.

Summerday

Kids playing in trees at Kjarvalstaðir art museum

Yesterday was our first day of Summer, and though chilly, we were gifted sunshine by the gods. No ashfall, no doom-laden black smoke skies, no new eruption. We've settled into our volcanism, and our latest foray into the world stage, with the calmness and wry humor of a people who count these disasters like clockwork. Like other fault-line cultures, ash and lava are part of who we are.

Meanwhile, our children still play.

Presence

It's rare that I post a photo taken by someone else, but this image must be shared.

Everything is changing. The heart of our island is pulsing, throbs exposed for all to see, releasing a nature we've not witnessed for aeons. And we're to let our own hearts beat in time, push past the fear, find the Love we've forgotten or neglected, welcome the spirits, and dance. This is Paradise, and a most beautiful moment to be alive.


(photo of Eyjafjallajökull by Örvar Atli Þorgeirsson)

Remembrance

We bury a share of our national soul this week, and hope beyond hope there's an afterlife...

For more on the current state of our state, I'll let the Reykjavik Grapevine do the honors.

Climb

At Kaldásel, near Hafnafjörður 

I have not been to the volcano yet, so no photos of gurgling, spewing lava lighting up the still-dark spring nights at the edge of a glacier.

Instead I'll offer up something much more mundane: a brightly-painted play feature standing lonely on the 7,300 year old Búrfellshraun lava field, east of Hafnarfjörður.

Rest

As predicted, the snow has all washed away in a cold rain.

This image was taken, though, a few weeks ago before that first dusting of white noted in the last post. It's a bit of mossy lava peeking out from cold-bleached straw just south of Hafnarfjörður, but for the life of me it looks like the body of a man, resting comatose or dead, or a night troll caught out in sunlight and turned to stone on the barren landscape.

Today is voting day as Alda of The Iceland Weather Report can explain most clearly, and by the end of the day we'll see if this cold rocky figure is an accurate representation of the state of the nation's soul.