the magic week

After around four months of driving to work on pitch-black mornings, we've finally hit "the week" where pre-sunrise coincides with morning commuting time. It's a magic week, but it is just a week, because by next week the magic time will already have slipped earlier, with the relentless march toward summer and the light that comes with it.

But today we were right in the magic. Driving along Sæbraut, the mountains Esja and Akrafjall across the water were like a basics class in oil painting. Almost too simplistically lit to be believed, pinkish-brown in color with delicate shadings and a washed-canvas sky behind them. I could imagine a teacher coming around to my easel and saying, "No, that's not believable, add some more color here and give it some depth." Only Iceland, and I, know how things can really look in that magic hour.

For Lisa Jollimore.