stafir

Jón Þór Ármannsson?
Jóhannes Þórólfur Árnason?
Jóakím Þórleifur Ákason?

Jóhanna Þóra Ánsdóttir?

During an occupation, yes, but in a kingdom or a republic? At low tide, yes, but before or after June 17? Not long before June, anyway: it's cold on the beach, and the sea wind can be fierce even on a clear day. Maybe in high summer, in a fit of patriotism, in an independent land.

Ísland, vasahnífum skorið!

doppóttur

It had rained, just a little, the evening before.

heimerniskennd

Glitskýjabekk
Norðurá
Skróná
Sakandaá
Mylluá
Móhaukaá
Norðmannsgilsá
Morðaragil
Kattagilsá
Æsópusará
Rondóttaá
Kengá
Vapparalækjur
Kasparsgil
Fiskgílsá
Morðaralækjur
Krótoná
Syngjandi
Spargilslækjur
Sagamylluá

lyftarar

Increasingly, I am seeing them as a couple of birds, doubtless a nesting pair. God knows where they might winter. Clearly, though, they are summering here, having chosen to nest at a cliff base, as so many migratory species do. Huge fulmars or guillemots? Except these are belong to a long-necked species. Cormorants? They are fairly far inland.

I can imagine their entry in some handbook: red body and underside, comparatively short black legs and feet, black neck, gray head. Call sounds like high-pressure paint sprayer with a humming or whining undertone. I see them nestled down in the evenings when I leave work, necks folded and heads resting on their breasts, side by side.

yfir holt og heiði

I take the shortcut, every day, even though I should turn down the street and walk along the shore while I have the chance. It's silly.

There's something charming about it, though. It goes over a patch of ground cut by paths. There is blágrýti spotted with lichen, birch both great and small, little grass. It's a spot of unbuilt ground and ungrazed. Völvuleiði í stórborginni? Álögublettur? No, because no one would think to mow it. It is a plot from the age of settlement. I walk there every day, footing it over a tiny, tiny heath to work.