Earth Science for Dummies: Lesson 1

Raise your hand if you paid attention in Earth Science.

I thought so. An internet full of earth science dummies.

Yeah, we know there's igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic rocks. We sort of remember something called "continental drift," which explains why we're not all on the Euro. And we're pretty sure there's a molten core at the center of the earth, which we all know contains an underground ocean, a Lost City, and very mean dinosaurs.

But that's all I remember. After going to Iceland, I wish I had paid more attention to the Earth Science teacher and less attention to Marc Sakwa's big brown eyes. Because the most wondrous things I saw in a trip of wondrous things have to do with the earth. And how it reflects forces that escape our notice unless they really run amok.

Fire. Water and Ice. Wind.


Today's lesson will be on fire, which is the biggie when it comes to the earth. The molten core heats up the rocky plates beneath the earth's crust, causing them to pull apart.  The North American Plate and the Eurasian Plate, for example, are separating from each other at the rate of one inch a year.  Like most divorces, this one is full of volcanoes and earthquakes. All that explosive stuff is largely going on beneath the Atlantic Ocean...

...Except for the part that is bisecting Iceland.

Here is a new lava field in Nornahraun, formed by a volcanic eruption about 25 miles away. The eruption started mid 2014 and the lava already covers 33 square miles. (Intrepid Icelanders have already got the trailmarkers in place. I assume a shop selling wool sweaters will be there soon.)

The groundwater steams from ongoing heat.

This lava field sits on top of one that has already been eroded by a bizillion years of wind and ice.

And if you think this looks a bit lunar, you are not alone. NASA came here to train nine of the 12 Apollo astronauts who walked on the moon.

Not all the geothermal activity going on beneath the crust of Iceland erupts. Most just seethes...

 

...or bubbles away in mudpots.

These occur when gases from the magma intrusions mix with oxygen and turn into sulfuric acid, which then eats away the rock. And anything else it touches. Iceland apparently has a dearth of attorneys, because we were able to get as close to any of these toxic monsters as we wanted.

To you, our vacation probably looks like a whole lot of gray mixed with sulfur. But where there is geothermal activity, there is also a whole lot of this.

 

 

And when you're just miles outside of the Arctic Circle, what more could you want as a society than geothermal activity? It made it possible for the women of Reykjavik to do laundry in the last century...

(.And I love a country that recognizes today what it meant to haul laundry two miles in a wagon.)

Geothermally heated water is now piped long distances...

...so that almost every town has a heated swimming pool operating year-round. About 25% of country's energy is now from geothermal water, with the rest hydroelectric.  (But more about the Icelanders themselves in another installment.)

And that concludes Lesson 1. Unit test a week from Friday.

Home

We are home from Iceland. Time to reflect on what I have seen...

...and find some words shorter than 10 syllables to share some stories with you.

 

But first, I have to get out of my clothes. I wore all of them...

at one time.

við erum að fara til Íslands

No, the title of this post is not the fault of your receiver.

It means "we are going to Iceland."


We will be driving around the Ring Road, which circles the entire island. It looks like this.

As you can see, there are lots of pesky little fjords, mountains, and ice caps that are trying to find their way back to the Artic. That makes driving from here to there an absurdity. Lured into a false sense of confidence by our adventures in Idaho last year, we are taking our destiny into our hands and renting a camper van.

I am hoping ours does not come with children.

See you in a few weeks!!!

Photo Finish

My kids weren't like yours.

Mine were the most beautiful little girls ever made.

They had smiles like light bulbs...

 ...and were Olympian in their physical prowess.

They were masters of disguise...

and the Rodins of their time.

Unlike your kids, mine were adorable. Which is probably why, unlike you, my kids' photos have taken over my house. They are to my walls what kudzu is to South Carolina...

And waxy yellow build-up is to tabletops.
Detect a slight change in tone? You betcha. Because here's the truth. My kids were beautiful. I cherished their childhoods, I worship the women they have become.

And I am really sick of having their pictures all around me.

I write about this because I am trying to understand the paradox. I filled my house with their photos while they were filling my life with hot pink tutus and roller blades. I artfully arranged frames of their antics, their smiles, their moods at the very moment they were artfully arranging my bed into a trampoline. So now that they've flown away, taking their giggles and hair products into far-off zip codes, you'd think I would feel nostalgic.  I'd think I would feel nostalgic...and want to surround myself with reminders of the magic place in my life that was motherhood.

But what I am really feeling looks a lot more like this.

I am of course still a mother...still an active mother at that. Although my ranking as the Ultimate Source of Information has fallen as that of Google has risen, I still am the one to call about the broken foot, the thrilling promotion...and yes, the request for bail. I get indecipherable text messages daily, I hear their voices weekly, I kiss their silky foreheads multiple times a year.  

And between you and me, that is enough. I can't believe I would ever say that, could ever say that, but it is true. They are Out There, where they are supposed to be. And I am in here, in my life, doing the work of entering my 60s.  I don't need to have their childhood pictures in little frames on my dresser because they are in the Vault of my mind, playing in an endless loop at any and all times of the day . I don't even need to have their adult pictures hanging on my walls because I feel their pulses in my own heart even as I sleep.

I'd rather fill my walls with images that reach the whole person that I am.

Where I came from...

Where I've travelled...

...and where my soul wants to be.

What appeals to my sense of playfulness...

Imagine doing all this work by hand and spelling the words wrong! (Flea market find)

...and of course, what just plain old appeals to me.

Sigh.

So this will be the summer that the photos of those little girls will move off the walls, the dresser, the ledges..and into the little cabinet under the Roadkill Frog Band. I don't feel guilty...

...I won't feel guilty.

Will I?