A large portion of our airfare to Iceland was
funded by the inheritance my parents passed onto us after the sale of my
grandma and grandpa's house in Sauk Rapids. Since my grandparents enjoyed to
travel so much, I know that they would appreciate us doing the same.
Yvette was very expressive and carried a lot
of energy. Arnold was content to sit back, be silly, and smile. My grandma would
say, "Iceland!?! Geesh! Is it buggy?" My grandpa would be content to
listen to my descriptions of the birds and the fishing and the music. My
grandma would be keen to know about the prices of things and the measures we
took to "get a good deal." My grandpa would raise his eyebrows in a
silly way to express his approval at my descriptions of playing air guitar on a
volcano rim. Both would love to hear about the loon calls we heard echoing
across the vast blue lake, Frostastaðavatn. I would tell them how the ethereal
chuckle of the loon immediately brought me back to early mornings at the cabin
at Long Lake, where they would take my cousins and me for adventurous weeks
during the summer. I would recall how my fledgling wonder with travel and
exploration and freedom found fertile ground in those long and roaming days
chasing frogs, mapping the woods, and taking solo paddle boat rides to - what
seemed like - the far end of the world.
My grandma and grandpa sit back, and they
smile.
Strange, but in all my readings and research
about Iceland, I never came across any mention of loons. How nice, then, that
this pair of loons decided to leave its winter home on the Atlantic and not -
per usual - head to Minnesota for the summer but instead visit us here in Iceland!
All my love...
Frostastaðavatn
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