amuse bouche

I have been sprawled in the afternoon sun on what I like to think of as a divan reading Flateyjarbók. I would not have imagined myself doing this, ever, even a few years ago, but no matter. That is what I have been doing. As I go, I have made note of a few words that have struck my fancy:

súreygðr
þarvist
skerjótt

Coming upon such words while consuming text is like getting a nice salt crystal between your teeth, a white flower-of-the-sea or a gray grain of Maldon, making you stop for a bare instant, about to worry that you have bitten down on a small stone (and so you have) and that you may break a tooth in the middle of this heretofore very enjoyable meal. Just then, it crunches and dissolves, releasing its mineral flavor into the surrounding mouthful of words, and you swallow it all, remarking once more to yourself on the quality of the repast, readying yourself for another gluttonous bite.


súreygðr - "sour-eyed" I feel I have seen this physiognomy more than once.

þarvist - "there-being" More specific than the abstract presence, this word captures the immediacy of being there.

skerjótt - "skerried" Of offshore waters dangerous for being full of sharp rocks. The adjectival suffix -ótt is infrequent in general but common in color terms, especially those specialized ones used of horses. As a consequence, I picture the skerjótt sea dappled, gray, and heaving like a sweat-dampened flank.

Verði ykkur að góðu.