The wind has changed. Dropping all the snow down from tree branches. Warming the air. I am afraid, but I think to have smelled the spring yesterday even though it snowed all the day heavily. This early. But that is how the spring comes, in steps. In storms. Backwards and forwards with the winter. I think that the winter still wins for some months.
— Drip drop sounds through leaves as raindrops are landing. Fresh scents of pine, cherries and birch tree leaves. Soft wet grass under bare toes. Gentle summer rain is here.
— Mountain called Stollinn is like a chair for a giant. It frames a small fishing village in North Iceland and holds a small glacier tightly behind its back. Weather keeps Stollinn playing hide and seek game. Sunshine makes it golden, mist and rain makes it to disappear.
How are you?
Here it is nap time of a Saturday evening. Then a long walk to see if the streets are already cleaned after the storm of yesterday. A bit of chocolate. A lot of tea. Lots of love.