This is a famous rock formation off the northwestern coast of Iceland called Hvitserkur, which means “long white shirt.” It’s covered in a lot of white bird guano, hence the name. When I visited, the sea was much rougher and the wind was fierce. This is an unusually calm day.
Photograph by Lionel Fellay
The result of ancient volcanic magma, in Icelandic folklore this rock was thought to be a petrified troll. Too bad the same doesn’t happen to internet trolls. 😉
I grew up next to the Atlantic Ocean. Its profoundly salty tone and scent suffuses all aspects of life within and nearby with an overarching awareness of the primordial melting pot that connects all of us.
For me, this picture from photographer Vincenzo Mazza activated a strong sense of home, which is unusual as I’ve never felt much homesickness. I left “home” at a very young age and have spent the vast majority of my life in many other places. Home became more about my life’s people than about a place. But the ocean has a way of imbuing your blood, I think.
I have visited Iceland a number of times, and its ocean geography does remind me of “home.”
South Icelandic coast, a rugged and beautiful place.
This is a very familiar sight to me. Deep, serious winter snow. Blowing, swirling, wheeling, billowing wildly, settling uncomfortably only to be on the move again.
I find that this photo, by photographer Arthur Stanisz, captures the disquiet and restlessness of a winter storm. The mountain acts as a sort of monochromatic canvas, a supporting frame amid the curtain of darkening, louring skies.
This storm should be respected: stay inside with a good blanket and some hot chocolate.
It really looks as if the federal government is going to tighten our pandemic travel rules, a lot. The prime minister is being pushed that way, and, I think, is leaning that way. That means no travelling at all, either nationally or internationally.
Although I’ve hit a bit of a patience wall, I’m in favour of it. I want to do what’s in the best interests of the vulnerable. And the sooner we hunker down, the more we can control this wretched virus, and together with the vaccines, that means …
One of my favourite Penticton restaurants.
… going to a restaurant! Inside!
What else?
Meeting with family and friends! And being able to hug!
This is a picture of a former Canadian politician, Tom Mulcair. That’s not the point, though: it’s a crowded room, and there’s not a mask in sight.
No masks! Hot, soggy, fogging-up-the-glasses uncomfortable. If I never have to wear a mask again, I’ll be very thankful.
I hope to say good-bye to these soon.
And lastly, but definitely not leastly, just being able to live without covid. Without worrying about loved ones, without thinking of all the safeties you have to do to go to the grocery store, … without worrying about my son, the paramedic.
I was lately reminded that nothing lasts forever, including a pandemic. So yes, this, too, shall pass.
We have to continue to be patient. And safety conscious. And thankful for essential workers of all kinds.
If you’re interested in seeing them for yourself, there are many choices. Here’s the site for Yellowknife, NWT tourism: https://extraordinaryyk.com/
Thinking about travelling somewhere makes me wistful. Not that I need to (or want to) travel right now, but the idea of that freedom … I hope that we will soon have this pandemic under control, and such things as seeing the northern lights will become possible again. This weird perception that I’m “unfree” is strange. I’m not, not at all, but I feel an illogical and strong sense of entrapment. This must be my limbic brain kicking in. New normal? Hah! New abnormal is more like it.
… photographer Pierre Destribats. It was taken in Lapland, which is a part of Finland.
The light shown in this photo is very familiar to me. It’s that top-of-the-world, angled sunlight that is passing through a clear, cold atmosphere.
I have seen these formations here in Northwest Territories, but only occasionally and the result is much less impressive. What are they, you ask? These are actually snow-covered trees.
An icy coating forms over the trees when humidity in the air makes contact with the branches. The moisture freezes instantly and begins to form a layer of thick frosting. This results in these rather ghostly, human-like sculptures.
An alien landscape on Earth.
This photo was originally published in National Geographic magazine.
The Okanagan Valley is quite famous for wine grapes, but for many years before that it was well-known for its fruits and vegetables, especially its tree fruits.
I am not usually a big lover of fruit, but there’s nothing quite like a fresh peach, warm from the sun, gently sweet and juicy, slightly tangy but not acidic. And that heavenly peachy perfume! Such a treat!
A bin of Okanagan peaches.
So as I sit on the equivalent of a massive glacier, I can always dream sweet summer memories of peaches. Mummm, I can almost taste one.
… was captured by Santiago Borja and published by National Geographic.
It is a gigantic cumulonimbus cloud (the kind that pilots are ever vigilant to avoid, especially during summer) over the Pacific Ocean; the photo was taken from about 37,000 ft.
The photographer captured this shot during one of the lightening flashes emanating from the cloud.
As a pilot, I have taken what I consider to be rather interesting pictures from aloft, but I have nothing even approaching this.