Ridiculous Iceland

The adjective "Ridiculous" may seem like an odd one to describe an entire country, but after only two days driving the Ring Road in Iceland, "Ridiculous" was the perfect descriptor -- never a curve or turn could we take that didn't end up with a new edition of mind-boggling landscape and scenery. If it is possible to gawk for nine days straight, then "gawk-fest" sums up perfectly "What I did on my Summer Vacation in 2025." 

Most tourists go counterclockwise along the primary highway (the Ring Road) around Iceland starting with the famous (and often overwhelmed with tourists) Golden Circle near Reykjavik, heading south, then east, then north, then west, and finally re-entering Reykjavik from the north. 

We chose to go the opposite way.  

With my annoyingly "thin blood", a result of having grown up in Florida, I thought it made sense to start with the coldest weather first, in the North, and progress to a more pleasant climate in the South as we approached the end of our visit.  

While I tried my best to condense our clockwise adventure around Iceland into a single blog,  I failed miserably -- the memories cascading onto the page simply went on and on and on despite my attempts to control myself.   If you prefer to view highlights of Iceland with a minimum of text, here are a few slideshows:

Snaefellsnes Peninsula (Northwest Iceland)

Studlagil Canyon (Northeast Iceland)

Skaftafell Preserve in Vatnajökull National Park (South Iceland)

A Sampler of Icelandic Waterfalls (All over Iceland)

GullFoss (Golden Waterfall, along the Golden Circle near Reykjavik)

Flora and Fauna of Iceland 

Beautiful Icelandic Horses 

For more of my rambling on Ridiculous Iceland, a day-by-day look at our trip:

Day 1, Reykjavik and Thingvellir National Park

Day 2, Snaefellsnes Peninsula

Day 3, Húsavík

Day 4, Studlagil Canyon, Vox Baths, and Fossadalur

Day 5, Surpises, JökulsárlónLagoon, and Diamond Beach

Day 6, Vatnajökull National Park 

Day 7, Vik, Canyons, and More Waterfalls

Day 8, The Golden Circle

Day 9, Reykjavik

Weeks later, I miss being in Iceland and I remember it as if it were yesterday.  Of all the places I've been in the world, Iceland is definitely at the top of the list (right up there with home).   

Iceland, Day 9: Reykjavik

Our last day in Iceland landed us in a city.   Alas,  I am a country mouse.  

One guess how that worked out... 

The Harpa Concert Hall is unique and interesting with over 700 LED lights illuminating the outside of its rather cubic structure. I am totally  convinced that some of the glass architecture could hypnotize you if you stared at it long enough.   Which I didn't, because my head (and heart) were still elsewhere ... in the more remote corners of the country.  

The Hallgrimskirja is a structure with a unique architecture meant to resemble the basalt columns that are scattered throughout Iceland like dandelions in the spring. The church is named after a famous Iceland poet and pastor (Hallgrímur Pétursson) who wrote the Passion Hymns that track the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (which non-coincidentally make them very popular during Lent).   Interestingly, this church is the second tallest man-made structure in Iceland.   

I tried my best to absorb the history behind the church with sincere interest but my mind kept wandering back to basalt columns.  

Moving along.

The fish stew was tasty.  The weather was very nice.  The people seemed friendly. There was lots of shopping.  

But a a country mouse coming off of eight days in the unspoiled wilderness that is Iceland... what can I say?   I wanted to drive away and go stare at some more snow capped mountains, seals, waterfalls, glacier.... anywhere without pavement.  

I know.... Bad attitude.   

And my attitude didn't get any better when I boarded a plane back to the States.  Sigh.   

Iceland, Day 8: The Golden Circle

Click here for a tour of Gullfoss (The Golden Waterfall)

The Golden Circle is not a circle.  It's not particularly golden either.  Instead, it is a squiggly oblong shaped route west of Reykjavik that gives the (very) busy tourist "Iceland in a (two hundred mile) Day".  Having just seen Iceland in seven days (still not enough time by any stretch), I was curious to see how well the Golden Circle represented what we had just experienced over our first week in Iceland.   

I think we saw more tourists in ten minutes along the Golden Circle than we saw the entire week prior.  And, we were greeted at multiple visitor's centers with massive opportunities to shop everything from outdoor clothing to souvenirs to socks.  And, we actually had to hunt for a place to park. Fortunately, we were charged for parking just like he rest of Iceland, so at least that part was familiar. 

None of this is to say that the Golden Circle is anything less than spectacular.   Of the many sights along the circle, Gullfoss (Golden Foss) is likely the most well known.  Though not the tallest waterfall in Iceland (total drop of about 105 feet) nor the widest, it is one of the largest (109 cubic meters pass through the fall every second) and undoubtedly one of the most awesome.  Gullfoss was almost lost early in the twentieth century when there was talk of converting it to a hydroelectric power station.  The rainbows across the falls would have been very upset by this, as would the thousands of tourists who visit the falls every year.   Fortunately, the daughter of the man who owned the land on which Gullfoss sits fought off the developers and Gullfoss remains an unspoiled delight.   

Also on the Golden Circle is the Haukadalur geothermal area where the geyser named Geysir is famous not so much for its very powerful eruptions (which happen rarely and only after major earthquakes) but for providing the name "geyser" to similar geothermal features around the world, including in America's Yellowstone National park.   While we could only watch low profile bubbles steam from the inactive Geysir, the nearby Strokkur geyser was happy to erupt every 15-20 minutes.  Not quite Old Faithful but impressive nonetheless.  

While Gullfoss and Geysir were swarming with tourists, there was also no shortage of sights that were much less populated. As the northernmost of four craters along the Tjarnarhólar fissure, Kerið crater was formed by a volcanic explosion and is about 180 feet deep and between 560 and 890 feet wide. The crater came into being between six and nine thousand years ago (a few years before I was born).  It is a clear reminder that we were walking and driving on land created by past volcanic eruptions and prone to future eruptions.   

Straying away from "the sights", we also had the opportunity to visit the small village of Solheimar which is an ecovillage internationally recognized  for its organic farming, use of geothermal energy, and other ecofriendly practices.  While the outdoor art, trolls, and quaint qualities of Solheimar were nothing short of charming, my favorite part of our visit was the opportunity to roam the greenhouses, particularly the wide variety of tomatoes.  If it were allowed, I would have sat in the greenhouse all afternoon and munched on tomatoes, but alas, I could only observe... 

Along the Golden Circle, we also landed at some "lesser" sights (that weren't lesser at all).  Among them was one of the "bluest" waterfalls in Iceland (Bruarfoss) which is fed by the upstream glacier and filled with the glacial flour that interacts with light to produce a unique and beautiful blue. The road to Bruarfoss was well outfitted with potholes, some enormous enough to swallow our tires... which while difficult to traverse, meant that we had a relatively solitary and secluded time at Bruarfoss.  

Heading back to Reykjavik via Thingvellir National Park (our first stop along our Iceland adventure), we landed at a lovely campground for our last night in Iceland.  Mosfellsbaer Campsite was more like the campgrounds we were accustomed to in the states with assigned spaces. The hot showers, clean facilities, the view of the mountains in the distance, the warm temperatures (in the fifties... Yay!), and the breadth of native and planted flowers made for an excellent end to our Iceland travels.   

The only problem with Mosfellsbaer was that it marked the end of our time in Iceland.   Sad. Sigh.

Iceland, Day 7: Vik, Canyons, and More Waterfalls

Click here for a Sampler of Icelandic Waterfalls (slideshow) 

The ominous weather that threatened to take over our vacation late on Day 5 disappeared by this morning (Day 7).  The sunshine returned and continued to spoil us as we travelled among the wonders of Iceland.  At a reasonable morning hour, we departed Vatnajökull National Park and continued heading west along the Ring Road. Our first stop was an impulsive one -- at a roadside pullout that looked like an ordinary river flowing parallel to the road... until we followed the river upstream and found (surprise, surprise) another amazing waterfall.  Fossalarfoss was actually a series of waterfalls ... smaller than most but certainly not lesser.  Fossalarfoss were formed along a lava field that emerged from a massive volcanic eruption in the 1700's.  I'm glad I wasn't here for that particular eruption... I'd take the nippy breeze over molten lava flow any day.   

As we continued west, the waterfalls continued upping their game both in frequency and gawking score, so we had many stops to make, some planned and many spontaneous.  After Fossalarfoss, we stopped (by design) at a massive geological gem called Fjadrargljufur Canyon.  Two kilometers long and a hundred meters deep, the Canyon and its accompanying hike kept us busy for the remainder of the morning.  Of course, the canyon came with its own stunning waterfall (not shown here).   

Our next stop heading west was the charming town of Vik where we stopped for groceries and went in search of a campground that our GPS swore existed but didn't.  After navigating a number of truly exceptional potholes, we gave up looking and drove up the hill to have lunch in the parking lot of this adorable looking church while enjoying the view down below.  In the distance along the beach are a number of Icelandic horses trotting along the sand as if they were posing for this postcard photo.  

The lupine fields continued to add their blue and purple highlights to the fields and the hills almost everywhere we went.  I expected beautiful flowers everywhere in a humid tropical or subtropical climate but to see these blankets of color in such a cold climate was a delightful surprise that followed us around the whole of Iceland.   

Our late lunch came to an untimely end as a dense fog rolled in from off the coast and swallowed our views.  We reluctantly rolled out of Vik but the persistent fog insisted on following us to the Puffin preserve.  Fortunately, the Puffins had their cold weather parkas on and remained unperturbed by the cold wind and the wet, heavy air.   The Puffin is truly the most adorable bird that lives in the cold climates of the world (well maybe they are tied with penguins) and we were fortunate that it didn't seem particularly shy while umpteen tourists took umpteen times umpteen photos of it.   

At some point, in between Puffins and the closing of the Puffin preserve, the freezing wind finally caught up with me and I was very ready to give up for the night and be warm.  Once we got more serious about finding camp for the night, we landed without incident at a campsite in the middle of a town called Selfoss, just a few miles from the Golden circle and adjacent to a construction site (which certainly spoiled the whole camping vibe).   But our site was nevertheless functional and warm enough to cook, rest, and sleep.

So we did.

The End.

Iceland, Day 6: Vatnajökull National Park

Click here for Vatnajökull National Park (slideshow)

Today, the previous day's weather forecast prompted yet another change to the long forgotten preplanned itinerary.  When we rented the camper, we were given ample and multiple warnings about not driving The Beast in winds over 15 m/sec (30ish mph).  So, with high winds in the forecast, we selected a campground in an inland area that looked to be sheltered from the worst of the weather. We landed at the sheltered campsite in Vatnajökull National Park at 10 in the morning, a far cry from our usual late evening arrivals on previous days.  

Parked and sheltered, we declared the day a rest day.  

While we were fully intending to hide out in the camper in heavy rain and just chill, the heavy rain failed to materialize and it was easy to ignore a few sprinkles and head out on a "short" hike. An hour later, we arrived at a waterfall called Svartifoss surrounded by basalt columns that appeared to fall like the water -- into the pool below.  Whether viewing the falls from a distance at the footbridge or up close where we could feel the mist from the falling water on our exposed skin, the falls merited far more than just a passing glance.  We rested long enough that climbing the hill on the other side of the falls toward a not-too-distant summit seemed like a reasonable thing to do.   

At the summit, we had panoramic views of the lowlands below, of glacial arms of the Vatnajökull ice cap in the distance, of an old, abandoned farm, and of a variety of flora that easily kept us going for several more miles.  Rest day was officially cancelled, but we had no objections.  Heavy rain never materialized and the cloud cover remained overcast but nowhere near ominous.   

In the late evening, we took advantage of the endless daylight and hiked to the Jökull glacier on the opposite, eastern end of the park, I had never been up close and personal to a glacier, particularly with almost no-one else around to disrupt the tranquility, which made Jökull even more of a treat.  Had the air not reminded me of how truly cold the glacier itself was, I would have remained at the foot of the glacier much, much longer.  But I was too easily tempted by the warmth that lurked back at the campsite inside The Beast, so we turned and headed back to camp before midnight.  

On the hike back to camp though, my mood turned darker as I pondered the glacier's retreat and the far-reaching effects of climate change. 

I guess turning my mind off on vacation wasn't really the option I thought it was.   

Iceland, Day 5: Surprises!, Jökulsárlón Lagoon, and Diamond Beach

I have a confession. On the morning of Day 4, I gave up on my commitment to tolerate instant coffee while camping (or camper van'ing) my way across Iceland.  Having found a lovely latte in our remote campsite of the previous night, I felt confident that I could successfully hunt down a latte in the small town of Djupavogi -- our first stop of the day. And so I did.   

While temporarily in a delightful state of contentment induced by warm milk and quality coffee, I toured the town and found, of all things at the end of the road, a rather odd collection of eggs.  34 of them, in fact. All granite. All far more than life-size. Each egg represented the egg of a nesting bird in the area, created by the Icelandic artist by Sigurður Guðmundsson, installed in 2009, and named "The Eggs of Merry Bay." 

Eggs and a Latte were a lovely start to another beautiful sunny day and even better, the temperature had ventured upward to the point that the first digit on the thermometer was actually a four (Fahrenheit).  Departing Djupavogi and heading west, we impulsively turned into a random picnic spot and discovered a Surprise Beach ... which quickly prompted a hike along the water's edge and yes... yet another delay to our "itinerary."  

Unfortunately, by the afternoon, the unthinkable started to surround us. The sunshine we had begun to take for granted over the previous four days began to vanish behind ominous clouds and increasingly strong "breezes".  The threatening weather did not take much away from the impressive Jökulsárlón Lagoon though. Studded with floating glacier "debris" the lagoon looked more like we had landed on the wet side of the moon than remained on land on planet earth.  

Despite the wickedly cold wind, we lingered for quite a while along the lagoon's edge and on nearby Diamond Beach, turning back to the camper van only when I was rudely attacked by an incoming wave that soaked my already cold feet.    

As we headed further to the West along the Ring Road, we faced limited camping options -- in  part because of an ominous weather forecast and in part because we had once again failed to make steady progress along the Ring Road. With all the waterfalls, mountains, and assorted other sights, what's a tourist to do?  Drive?  Make good time?   No. Not possible.  

Late as usual, we landed at Svinafells Campsite for the night -- which is a fine place to camp as long as you have little interest in taking a shower, much less a hot one.   

Iceland, Day 4: Studlagil Canyon, Vox Baths, and Fossadalur

A Day of Rocks, Lupine, Waterfalls, and Warmth

Click here for a tour of Studlagil Canyon (slideshow)

At 5:30, I awoke to a dusting of snow on everything in the campground, including our windshield. As the snow continued to fall, I was suddenly even more grateful that I was "glamping" in a camper van rather than sleeping on the ground in a tent.  With that in mind, I rolled over and went back to sleep.  After all, who gets up at 5:30 while on vacation?  or ever?

As we hit the road for the day, I realized that even with a good heating system, I had turned into some semblance of a popsicle whose chances of thawing out were diminishing with every passing kilometer.  I held out hope that the temperatures would bump up a little bit as we started to head south.  

But first, while still in the North, we headed toward the stunning basalt-column-ridden Studlagil Canyon (home of fascinating hexagonal basalt -- who ever imagined that rocks could crack into perfect hexagons just because a ton of molten lava happened to pass by?)

Leaving the canyon and navigating several miles of terrain that barely passed for a road, we drove past a few mind-boggling waterfalls en route to Vox Baths, land of delightfully warm (and some hot) pools.  We took an afternoon off to bask and soak until my teeth forgot about all their chattering of the previous days and my body temperature returned to a comforting 98.6 degrees. 

I spent the afternoon A Happy Floridian... 

After leaving the baths, we turned further south and drove along the coastline that was as was now typical to our driving experience... ridiculously stunning.  We had to endure another forty or fifty miles of amazing scenery and stopping at every possible portion of road that looked remotely like a safe turnout to gawk and take ever more photos. 

Our inability to continue driving for any length of time predictably led to arriving at campsite relatively late. But by mid-evening, we landed at our very favorite campsite of the trip (Fossaadalur), greeted by a warm and friendly camp host, lovely facilities, and yes, you guessed it -- another round of mind boggling landscape and views. 

I fell asleep dreaming about snow covered mountains, voluminous waterfalls, and endless fields of lupine.   

Iceland, Day 3: Húsavík

Click here for A Peek at Humpback Whales and other Flora and Fauna of Iceland (slideshow)

Prior to our arrival in Iceland, a massive winter storm (that's right ... a winter storm at the cusp of summer) had made the roads impassible in North Iceland.  Many sights and attractions remained closed and multiple vehicles (including a camper van very similar to our own) remained overturned by the side of the Ring Road. While on land, the storm had vanished by the time we arrived, the open seas were a different story.  Fortunately, Gentle Giants Whale Watching gave us ample opportunity to reschedule our previously scheduled, morning whale watching tour.  After the marine conditions weather forecast for the morning made me seasick just reading about what was going on in the open sea, we were both very agreeable to postponing the three hour whale watching tour to the afternoon.  After all, we reasoned that it was Gilligan and his friends who went amiss after a three hour tour and I certainly wouldn't survive a day on a desert island in the Icelandic North.  

On the tour, we were given a rugged, waterproof onesie to keep us warm on the boat. While I would like to say that the boat cruised amid calm, soothing waters and I remained warm and cozy in my onesie (layered over a sweater and a heavy parka), I would be lying. While stumbling around on the boat as it slammed to and fro into this or that wave and being greeted by walls of spray on a regular basis, I had a very memorable time that understandably involved few level photographs and even fewer photos of the multiple humpback whales we were so blessed to see amidst the turbulent conditions. I will forgo a description of the seasick passengers although I did discover what our guide's advice to "feed the fish, not the boat" meant.   

After warming back up thanks to a very generous heater in the camper van, we set out to Myvatn Lake which hosted a field of pseudo-craters.  The pseudo-craters were formed when hot lava flowed over wetlands, boiling the water underneath and causing explosions that henceforth became craters.   They were quite a sight, even in overcast conditions.

Distracted by the "pseudo craters" at Myvatn Lake, it was getting quite late before we became equally quite as serious about finding a place to stay for the night.  As we searched, we soon discovered that the first two weeks of June were not yet tourist season and many campsites were still closed, so it was much much later into the evening when we landed at the adorable Möðrudalur Campsite, several miles along a rather bumpy unpaved road, and seemingly squarely located in the middle of nowhere. Whether in nowhere or somewhere didn't matter at that point and we settled in for a snowy night (yes, that's right -- snow).  

Iceland, Day 2: Snaefellsnes Peninsula

Click here for A Drive along the Snaefellsnes Peninsula (slideshow)

If we were in a bygone age of traditional analog cameras and printed photographs, the pictures from the Snaefellsnes Peninsula alone would have cost me enough to merit a line item in my annual budget, on par with the cost of the entire travel expenses associated with the trip. But thanks to the digital age, I could snap away at everything in my path that made me gawk (which turned out to be almost everything in my path).   

Fortunately, the day started out with a dramatic drop in jet lag and both of us were sufficiently alert to drive without incident.  Even in the passenger seat, there is no reasonable opportunity to nap because there is far too much to see and never a break (at least that I observed) in the stunning landscape that was long enough to get bored or sleepy.   

Our day started out with a drive through acres and acres of lava beds decorated in patches of olive green moss that made it hard to believe that these fields were once molten hot and devoid of any life.   Of course, these lava beds had an entire millennium to re-establish vegetation, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that a vast majority of the lava was covered in living, growing things.   

I'm not a big fan of moss, but mixed with jumbled lava, both made a unique and lovely landscape.   

After many miles of lava beds, we arrived at the small village of Hellnar on the coast, rolled out of the camper van, and headed out for a hike along the North Atlantic Ocean to the more populated village of Arnarstapi. Rock arches and basalt cliffs were amply supplied with bird excrement, which may sound unattractive and off-putting, but actually made for surprisingly artistic views along the hike.  Seeing such a multitude of birds nestled in cozy holes in the cliffs also made it difficult to be annoyed with their indiscriminate droppings.   

After returning to Hellnar, we set out on the road again, circling clockwise around the remainder of the peninsula.  An impulsive stop at a roadside parking lot (where other vehicles and tour buses abounded) brought us to the Longdrangar pinnacles -- two basalt cliffs that achieved their prominence by the erosion of softer rocks that surrounded them.   

All the impulsive stopping did little for catching up on our itinerary, but we were both content to call the itinerary a suggestion and dispense with it when necessary.  

After leaving Longdrangar, we had the pleasure of driving through a cloudburst with windshield wipers that had long since seen better days, but the rain didn't last long and we returned to driving in sunny conditions along miles and miles (or if you read the road signs -- kilometers and kilometers) of snow capped, volcanic mountains that stood out in the surrounding valleys and low hills.    

Our luck with campsites changed during out second night out as we stayed at a lovely, clean, well equipped site among the trees at Varmahlíð.   Although the sweeping mountain views of our first night were absent, our cozy spot among the trees and the lack of bacteria, slime, and other disconcerting sights  in the bathroom and shower facilities made for a lovely overnight stay, despite the persistently cold (and non-summer like) temperatures.   

Iceland, Day 1: Thingvellir National park

Day 1, Reykjavik and Thingvellir National Park

On Day 1, we departed Reykjavik after stocking up on groceries and headed North. Our camper van had already earned the nickname The Beast (because we never had trouble finding it even in the most crowded parking lot because it towered over nearly every other vehicle). Despite its size, it was surprisingly easy to drive, so we.... drove... a lot. 

In the North, the weather did not disappoint.  Despite the fact that it was June, it was COLD, COLD, COLD...  plenty of sunshine and umpteen layers of clothes and a warm beanie did help keep me from abject misery... at least most of the time. 

Despite the COLD, we started at Thingvellir National Park, UNESCO world heritage site, Iceland's first national park, and the founding site of Iceland's parliament in the year 930.  If that weren't riveting enough, Thingvellir is also geographically located in a rift valley that divides the North-American and Eurasian continental (tectonic) plates. Not the best place to be during an earthquake, but the scenery was typically Icelandic -- stunning and breathtaking:

After leaving Thingvellir, jet lag from the overnight flight caught up with us and we traded places as we each were tempted in turn...  to fall asleep at the wheel.  Our original itinerary had put us spending the night somewhere on the way out of the Snaefellsness Peninsula by late evening (there was no nightfall in early June in Iceland -- only twilight that lasted for a good few hours before yielding to sunrise in the middle of the night). But the reality of functioning on no sleep after flying across a few oceans sank in and we stopped short of the peninsula at a campsite called Farm Holiday. Farm Holiday had no shortage of great views but we sound found that the bathroom/shower facilities were to be avoided unless absolutely necessary.  

One Big Not-Beautiful At All Bill Act (H.R. 1)

 

This blog is part of my ongoing effort to maintain a record of my written communication expressing concern about the actions of the current presidential administration that lead to unnecessary (and in some cases cruel) harm to others, to the U.S., or to the global community. 

I wrote the following letter to address H.R. 1 (One Big Beautiful Bill Act); while I focused my letter on the (highly) detrimental impact of the bill on the U.S. national debt, the impacts to the poor through cuts in Medicaid and other programs alongside tax cuts to the wealthy are not what America is nor what it should be. Feel free to copy any text in the letter below for your own communications.   

The text of H.R. 1 is here:

https://www.congress.gov/bill/119th-congress/house-bill/1/text

And a summary of the bill's impacts are here:

https://robertreich.substack.com/p/what-you-need-to-share-about-the

How to reach your U.S. Senators:

https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm

*******************************************

Dear Senator <Name>,

I am writing to strongly oppose the passage of H.R. 1., the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.  

​​​While there are many impacts to this bill that seem to unjustly punish poor working Americans and bless the rich, I am focusing this letter on the impact of the bill on the national debt. Does anyone in Congress really believe that we can survive another three to four trillion dollar increase in our national debt?   Does the recent downgrade in the U.S. credit rating not mean anything to Congress?  And what happened to the Republican Party?  Have all Republicans been kidnapped and duct taped or brainwashed to think that fiscal responsibility is no longer relevant?  necessary?  essential?   

The choice of words and alliteration in H.R. 1 mock the seriousness of the bill's profound, negative impacts. Groceries aren't beautiful. They are necessary.  H.R.1 is not beautiful.  It is not necessary and from a fiscal perspective... it is wildly irresponsible.  

I beg you to start over or take a leap backward on H.R. 1 -- to  thoughtfully consider what it will do, over short and long term, to harm "ordinary” Americans. I ask you to act, as a U.S. Senator, to prevent these harms.  

Please consider sacrificing politics, party, and individual advancement for the sake of those who vote for you, those who struggle to make ends meet, those who work hard every day to keep this country running, those who have sacrificed their lives to defend the country ... for the sake of every American who would like the United States of America to have a  bright and promising future.   

Sincerely, 

A Monday at the end of May

 

I am as guilty as many other Americans of making the last Monday in May a National Barbecue Day rather than the more serious and reflective day that it should be.  Too often, I allow the day to pass without even stopping to think about what it is really about.  Well, not this year. 

Don’t get me wrong.  We still barbecued.   Polish sausage (kielbasa) with the flavor that only comes from being on the grill sans foil.   Add to it -- pea salad, three bean salad, cucumber salad (do you see a theme here?), tater tots, and baked rockfish to top it all off. I am stuffed and content.  I love National Barbecue Day.  

But, I also love my country.   I’ve heard the following words over and over again throughout my life but especially on Memorial Day:

Remember those who have made the ultimate sacrifice to protect our freedoms.   

It is truly a sad state of affairs when these words only truly sink in when our freedoms are in real danger of being extinguished, temporarily at best, and now possibly -- for the rest of my time on this earth.  I expect to be here for several more decades, but, like many, I am afraid of the future that my beloved country is now facing.   

In America, I have lived a life speaking my mind, never once considering the possibility of dire consequences for doing so.

In America, I've lived my life secure as a birthright citizen, never once considering that I would be sent to live in a country that is not the United States and is as foreign to me as Mars or Venus.   

In America, I have lived the upward mobility story -- rising not only from poverty to the middle class, but being transformed into a more thoughtful and capable person by a high quality college education – which has in turn better equipped to be a teacher and public servant.

In America, I have been free enough to practice free will. To grow in my faith along a haphazard, convoluted route that has led me closer to God and more able and willing to serve Him. 

Throughout the years I have lived and changed in the United States, I have become increasingly aware of my affluence as an American and of my responsibility to steward resources and share my privilege for the benefit of others.

At times, I have been spoiled.  At times, I have taken this all for granted.   At times, I have been oblivious to the needs of others. At times, I have been disparaging of what others have to say, even of what others are.  

None of these times am I proud of.  

I want to do better.  Resting on American ideals and values alongside my faith, I can do better.     

But here I am.   On Memorial Day 2025, I am contemplating with deep sadness all those who have died for this country while protecting freedoms that now seem to be rapidly slipping away from us.   

Stickies

Science has advanced the study of the brain by leaps and bounds in the past few decades. Yet so much of how the human brain works remains a big messy mystery.  Among the many mysteries that remain are the ones that make me think science will never really capture the whole picture... is the process of how memories are made, organized, stored, and retrieved.  Particularly when it comes to the pleasures and joys of vacationing.

So much of what I see, do, and experience on vacation gets lost somewhere in the deep caverns of memory, never to be seen again, unless a dream or a la-la land moment in my waking hours randomly retrieves them. Even then, the memories appear and disappear in a short window of time, never to be seen again, unless the random moment... randomly repeats itself.  Which is not probable.  

So over the past few years, I've had less focus on seeing as much as possible while on travel or on vacation (not that I was very good at that to begin with) and more focus on making Stickies.  Stickies are those memories that are easily retrievable, pinned on a special bulletin board in the brain reserved for all things easily retrieved.   

To my dismay, Stickies are not easy to make. They are on par with making sourdough bread. The outcome is highly desirable, but the process is not at all simple or easily repeatable.

For one, Stickies usually require stillness.  And, how easy is it to be still when you are at a viewpoint with a hundred other people and a comparable multitude of cars that exceed the number of parking spaces?  And so it goes ...  Hunt down parking spot.  Hustle to viewpoint. Squeeze into a spot along guard railing.  Take photographs.  Feel weird because you are focused on the landscape rather than a selfie.  Listen to chatter. Return to Car. Leave. What results is a very perfect recipe for remembering nothing beyond a snippet on a busy itinerary.  

There is a simple solution, right?  Just seek out stillness.  Breathe. Meditate.  Feel the wind. Slowly take in the sun, the clouds, the rain, the weather. Listen for birds, squirrels, or the flow of water.  Smell fresh air, nearby flowers, or that burger that someone took with them to the viewpoint (and is now drive everyone else crazy).  Don't think about food. Be in the moment.  Focus.  Breathe.  Ignore the child screaming because mom pulled him off the railing before he went over the edge. Ignore the multitude of languages that together elevate the volume of unintelligible background chatter.  

Not so simple.    But not impossible either.  Worth the intentional effort it takes to find the place and space to make those tricky Stickies.

I love Stickies.  I love them because even on the most stressful of days I can pick a Stickie and rest in it.  In a moment of chaos, I can return to the Loughrigg Fell (Ambleside UK) and find peace:

In a day that feels dead and lifeless, I can remember creatures full of curiosity:

During a moment mired in frustration, I can remember a scene of contentment:

On a dreary, rainy day that marks a pattern of the same over a week, two weeks, a month ... I can return to the sunshine. 

And that's just from a single, ten-day trip to England (a trip that is turning into quite the StickieFest). 

Stickies.   Worth more than ten cities in ten days. Worth more than the most expensive resort.   Worth more than a thousand photographs.   

Worth more than gold.   Although some gold would certainly help with expenses.   

Electricity for Those in Need

 

This blog is part of my ongoing effort to maintain a record of my written communication expressing concern about the actions of the current presidential administration that lead to unnecessary (and in some cases cruel) harm to others, to the U.S., or to the global community. 

I wrote the following letter to address cutting of all staff in the LIHEAP program which provides assistance to maintain electricity to individuals in need including but not limited to those requiring oxygen to breathe and those living in states that experience extreme temperatures in the winter or summer.  Feel free to copy and paste any of the following text for your own letters or other advocacy to protect vulnerable populations in the U.S.  

More about LIHEAP:

https://www.liheap.org/about

How to reach your U.S. Senators:

https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm

How to reach your U.S. Representative:

https://www.house.gov/representatives/find-your-representative

***************************************************

Dear Senator <Name>,

Dear Representative <Name>,

I am writing to strongly encourage continued funding for LIHEAP (Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program).   

From the information that is available to me (and to the public), my understanding is that approximately 10% of the 2025 budget for LIHEAP has not yet been allocated because of a series of determinations involving certain (albeit extensive) calculations that need to be done by a LIHEAP staff member. Since all LIHEAP staff members were laid off recently, my understanding is also that the budget will remain unallocated because there is simply no one left to do the necessary work.   Further, it appears to me that the 2026 federal budget seeks to cut off LIHEAP entirely.   

Before voicing my thoughts on eliminating LIHEAP, I would like to communicate that my political views are moderate and lean only slightly left of center.  I am not a fan of proliferating entitlement programs just because they sound good on paper.  Instead, I am strongly in favor of programs that serve those who, through no fatal flaw or major fault of their own, are not earning enough money to maintain their basic needs.   

My understanding is that, before mass firings over the last several months, LIHEAP was run efficiently, channeling money directly to the states and directly to individuals vetted and approved for help with their home heating and cooling bills.  

In an era where temperatures are often reaching extremes of heat in the summer and extremes of cold in the winter, such aid is critical.  Temperature extremes can kill people when access to warm or cool spaces is cut off.  Individuals who need oxygen concentrators to breathe cannot survive when their electricity is turned off.  In an affluent country, is it wise or ethical to deny people access to electricity? Do we really want that to be a part of this administration’s legacy?

In addition to the immediate impacts of cutting LIHEAP funds, actions taken to curtail LIHEAP are an excellent example of where I believe the federal government is taking an ineffective approach to cutting waste and fraud that is fraught with ethical concerns. 

Instead of improving our methods for finding and pursuing those who pursue tax evasion, we promote tax evasion by making major cuts at the IRS.  Why?  

Instead of directing efforts towards the complicated issues of Medicare and Medicaid, cutting fraud which gives a real bang for the buck, we cut off energy assistance to very low-income individuals to save money. Why?

Instead of finding new ways to reduce food waste in this country, we cut off programs that distribute ugly produce and other surplus food to working families. Why?

And, in the end, after all these dramatic and highly damaging cuts that detrimentally impact the lives of so many individuals and families who have valid struggles, all the legal fees that result from the government’s hasty actions… reduce the resulting “savings” to negligible or even negative.  What on earth are we doing here?     

If LIHEAP is not being run efficiently, then with a sincerity of heart, I beg you to take action to fix it, not throw it away.  If there is waste in the food distribution network, find it and curtail it.  Please move away from "throwing out the baby with the bathwater" with these hasty, broad brush stroke actions that in the end, do more harm and good.   

It took us, as a country, a long time to get to the level of fraud and waste that now costs the federal government a mind-boggling amount of dollars every year.  These are complex problems that should be solved… but cannot be solved overnight.  

Thank you for considering my perspective. 

Sincerely,

A Peter Rabbit Kind of Day

I confess. I have a love-hate relationship with rabbits. 

Some days, they seem adorable -- a harmless delight. Catching sight of one bounding off into the brush with the bright white underside of its tail bobbing in harmony with its hopping -- makes me smile.  

Other days, I feel one step short of shooting any rabbit I see -- which will never really happen because I don't own a gun.  I typically have these homicidal impulses right after I discover some substantial or valued part of my garden has been gobbled up by the pesky critters.   

Still other days, I am neutral on the topic of rabbits.  On these days, in the war I wage with rabbits, I have won a battle or two and the many barriers I've put in place to keep them away from my garden are actually working.  Unfortunately, these days are few and far between because rabbits are very determined critters, taking second place only to beavers in the single-mindedness of their endeavors.  

Today was the first kind of day... the adorable Peter Rabbit arrived for a lengthy visit.  I had the privilege to visit Hill Top House in the Lakes District in England where Beatrix Potter did a great deal of her work in illustrating and writing children's stories in the early 1900's.  While Peter Rabbit was only one of her many characters, he is arguably the most well known... world famous no less.  

Fittingly, the day looked like a fairy tail (pun intended) from the very start.  The sun was out, joyfully announcing the arrival of spring.  The temperatures were ideal... not too cold, not too hot.  Once the morning chill evaporated, the temperature was just right (and it had nothing at all to do with porridge).   A multitude of lambs were out in pasture, enjoying the green grass with their mothers comfortably nearby.   A smattering of clouds in the sky moved against the bright blue backdrop fueling a seemingly endless sequence of unique landscapes.    

My friend Alice and I opted to drive less rather than more today... which drastically reduced the risk associated with the challenge of driving on the "wrong" side of the road amid narrow lanes and crazy fast drivers.  Driving less required a boat, so we drove from Ambleside (an adorable town that has the honor of being the biggest seller of outdoor clothing and supplies in England, despite its small size) to Windermere to catch a boat across the lake to our destination.   The boat in question was the cutest little ferry ever made with an eighteen car capacity that also held room for a handful of foot passengers like us.  Quite a contrast to the Washington State ferry (capacity between 90 and 144 cars) that we were accustomed to.  

In a short ten minutes, the ferry whisked us from the east side of Lake Windermere to the less populated west side. From the dock, we walked the landscape for what seemed like many miles even though the signs along the route continued to repeat for quite some time that it was only 1.5 miles further to Hill Top House.  Finally, the milepost signs started to drop to 3/4 miles, then 1/3 then 1/4.   I guess there had been a sale on 1.5 mile signs when the signposts were installed.   

We passed through wooded areas, pastures populated with contented sheep and new lambs, and a feast of old stone buildings, churches, and other structures that made it very clear we were no longer in the United States.   England and the Lakes District had offered us a perfect day with perfect landscapes and plenty to gawk at.  I thought for sure that arriving at Hill Top House would be anticlimactic. 

Not exactly.      

At Hill Top House, we were granted a moment of time to look into the window of the life of Beatrix Potter -- a window that extended well beyond Miss Potter, the movie and that left me wandering in musing and whimsy for the rest of the day.  The self-guided tour began in her gardens. Weeping wisteria, rhododendrons, azaleas, and a variety of other flowers had erupted in a rainbow of colors at the peak of spring bloom.  The flowers alone would have been enough to entertain me for an afternoon, but there was still the house to see.   

As we entered the house, I felt drawn to the window seat. Nestled in the seat and basking in sunshine, I picked up a copy of  "The Tale of Samuel Whiskers or The Roly-Poly Pudding" and was soon lost in the story.  As I read, I should have been horrified that two very large rats were busy trying to turn Tom Kitten into dinner, first tying him up, then slathering him in butter, then rolling him in dough... to make Roly-Poly pudding.  But with the clever illustrations and the rhythm of the story, it was hard to be disgusted by the rats (as I would certainly be in any real-life situation involving rats).  

Instead I laughed at the antics of Tom Kitten and breathed a sign of relief when he was rescued.  The rats were ultimately banished to Father Potato's barn (where they and their progeny apparently wreaked havoc for many years upon all nature of things stored in said barn).  And who knows what happened to Tom Kitten... precocious, mischievous little thing that was bound to find trouble every day of his feline life.     

Beatrix Potter had a way of spelling out the reality of predator-prey while simultaneously anthropomorphizing both and pulling it all together into a story suitable for children.  I could imagine that her Roly-Poly pudding was inspired when she heard rats scratching away in the walls of Hill Top House (as the tour informed us to be the case).  I am very impressed by this.  How you can create anything of artistic value when rodents are abounding in your home? That takes a level of character, drive, and strength that I will never have. Rats in my walls or in my attic (or anywhere in my vicinity) only inspire fear and homicidal impulses in my world.   Ugh.

Despite the fact that two of the main characters were large rats, Roly-Poly Pudding colored the rest of my time at Hill Top House in the most pleasant of ways. I felt that I had a little window into Ms. Potter's spirit and artistic flow and had a wonderful time soaking in the things she left behind in her home for us to better understand and know her.  

When leaving Hill Top House, I saw this sign in the road, cautioning us to be careful that Peter Rabbit might indeed spring out of the brush at any moment and hop onto the road.  In my whimsical state of mind, I didn't find it hard to imagine that he might just do that.     

More photos of the trek to Hill Top House, via slideshow:

https://youtu.be/9FQWB6JUNW4