Yesterday, when I set out in the morning, it was fizzling. Twenty minutes into my drive, it was raining. After thirty minutes, it was pouring. The rain followed me across the sea on Baldur ferry and to Snæfellsjökull National Park, despite the weather information claiming sunshine at my very location. I took any "fizzle time" as an opportunity to get out of the car and take some grey, colorless pictures.

I'd skipped breakfast that morning because I had to leave before the hotel started serving food (8 AM), so by the time I arrived at my next hotel at nearly 6 PM, I was cold, wet, and famished. After shoveling some cod down my gullet, I headed out at 7 PM on what could be a beautiful walk along lava field cliffs. When I began, it wasn't raining, but the sky was dark grey, and the air smelled of rain. Thirty minutes into my walk, however, something miraculous occurred.

A small patch of blue sky formed in the distance above a mountain. I could barely determine whether I was imagining the color through the force of wishful thinking or whether it actually existed, so pale and sickly a color blue it was. But after another few minutes, the patch of blue sky began to expand, rapidly widening until the sun itself shone through this cloud-lined orifice.

HALLELUJAH! I spent the next hour and half taking pictures of rocks that actually cast shadows, of houses that popped from the landscape, and of flowers brimming with golden hues. I don't think I captured any spectacular photos, but the experience was wonderful. It was as if I'd been laying under a soggy mattress for days, forgetting that anything aside from grey, dampness could exist. When I finally was allowed to escape, I discovered that the world is green, and blue, and yellow, and orange, and purple, and red, and gold.