So much to say and so little energy to say it ( Read more... )

 The man of the farm I'm staying at, HK as mentioned before, is an amateur photographer. He's quite good. He used to paint (also lovely paintings) but now takes pictures with cameras instead of brush. His photos of the wildlife around the farm are much better than any I could take (he has a better lens for sure!!) and he keeps a photo blog. Scroll ( Read more... )

Ah the luxury of regular internet and free time!

There's not much new to report. We've been making hay the past few days. Tomorrow we're expecting rain, so it's important to get the cut hay off the ground before then. We'll probably continue cleaning out the cowshed tomorrow since we can't work in the hayfields or in the garden really.
I've recorded ( Read more... )

Terrible photos from Iceland are posted here. They are not well organized and not all captions were saved when uploading. Not all photos even survived the uploading process.

Today's message has the luxury of a full sized but sticky keyboard. Now the concern is that the cat will accidentally press any number of buttons while she halfnaps near the escape key ( Read more... )

This entry is being typed from the awkwardness of an itouch. Please forgive the errors ( Read more... )

A short post while my friend is in the shower and doesn't need her computer ( Read more... )

My friend arrived today and we head out on our round the Iceland adventures tomorrow. I'm pretty excited. I've been in Reykjavik for five days now and am getting a little bored of the place, mostly because I fell ill with a fever turned cold over the weekend and wasn't able to get out as much as planned. My frustration isn't really anything to do ( Read more... )

My upcoming travels comprise three legs. The second leg has two parts, the third leg has three parts. Each leg and each part is very different from the others. The journey continues when I return home in August and switch to a different form of self-exploration and challenge.

Back in January, before I'd started the intensive travel planning for ( Read more... )

  Each night at six the man opens the small doors of cages for pigeons
to flutter out into sun-painted skies. One
by one they reel off their perch, strike their wings
into beating, collect in clouds sweeping together
   sculpting skyways
banked for rising and falling, slicing light
   white to silver
   grey to silver

Each night I pedal my bike, watch ( Read more... )