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Let's not talk about the weather! But it has been exceptionally snowy so far this winter, with records set in late December and up until this morning a nice dry below zero (Celsius) windless cold that made the white stuff crackle, crunch and snap under foot. Not very good snowball weather (it would be like lobbing rocks studded with shards of glass) but supernice for long walks around town.

Anyone who has been here in late fall through to late spring knows how often the weather fluctuates in this region's ongoing power struggle between the north wind Boreas, or Kári as he's known to Icelanders, and the great Gulf Stream [video], how surprisingly warm it can be for a nordic island, and how moist the air generally is. That's a recipe for bone-chilling. These past few days I finally really appreciated what dry cold means!

Unfortunately what always happens way too soon happened this morning: the temperature rose above zero and rain is on it's way, equalling nothing less than tons of heavy, dirty slush for the foreseeable future (unless, of course it snap freezes again, creating a dangerous icy shellac over everything.) I'm glad Óðinn and I walked over the town lake yesterday in case it never freezes over again this winter.

It was pretty funny: turned out a bunch of visitors were unsure if they should go out onto the lake, and were just waiting for a local to step out on to the ice, so we had a trail of tourists in our wake. I slowed down and stopped before reaching the bridge because I wasn't sure if it was frozen there, and two British guys stopped too. "We're following you," they chuckled. "Well, I'm following him, and he's only five, so I don't know how good an idea that is!" I replied with a wink.

Regardless, we'll just don our woolens and wet gear and make the best of the season this weekend, whatever comes our way.

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