Out of Yarn

I count, as one of my Great and Defining Life Experiences, that moment in Iceland (10 years ago), when I had crawled up under the lip of a glacier.  The day was freezing cold and it was snowing.  It was November 2001. There was about 8ish hours of daylight – grey and cloudy.

I was in this dark cold space, with million year old water dripping on my head, and suddenly I understood on some visceral level what global warming meant: the space I was in was created by water runoff – runoff from the glacier drips. That huge ginormous chunk of ice was melting – despite the cold, despite the snow; it was continuing to shrink.

A few years later and I’d go to Antarctica. Something about these very cold, very old places gets to me. I can feel it now even as I type.

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That middle photo amuses me - apparently, I've been taking texture-y geometric-y closeups for a while. Black is crushed lava sand next to white foam wave on a beach.

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My entire reason for being in Iceland in 2001 was to check out the possibility of driving the Ring Road.  (National Geographic Traveler had an article in 1994 that started this all.  I’m still trying to locate it in hard copy.)  Ten years later, Dude is making it happen.

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Note the first:  Plants and gardening couldn’t have arranged to be on a “normal” schedule this year?  This two weeks early is killing me.

Note the second: I wavered for about a millisecond on the “what yarn to bring to Iceland” question.  Franklin reminds me that there is yarn in grocery stores.

Note the third: We can also blame Clara. I think there’s still has room. (Don’t quote me on that.)

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On a housekeeping note – I’m trying to figure out the posting from iPad and links to Facebook and Twitter.  (Updates are slow due to that missing FIOS router which is arriving today.)