I drove my mother out to the Keflavik airport today, and on the way home it occurred to me once again how stark the landscape is between the airport and the big city of Reykjavik.
Every time I drive this road I feel a little bit of sympathy for first time tourists. Are they trying to remember why it was they chose to come here as they stare out over the barren lava? Do they think god, it does look like the moon?
I really like this lava field, though. What I like most is that you can see how the molten stuff poured slowly, like thick batter, over the peninsula then cooled, leaving cracks in the surface that remind me of well-baked muffin tops.
(speaking of baked goods, a note to digdug: your letter to the editor of Grapevine was published in the December (not online yet!) issue. You're still with us in word and spirit!)