Category Archives: Iowa
Each title is an era trapped in amber, a fossil record of a former self.
On this aðfangadagskvöld, it’s my duty to tell you specifically about the final Yule Lad, who arrives tonight. His name is Kertasníkir, and if you know Icelandic, you’re clutching your candles.
And then—after all that hectic activity—all I had to do was drive. For five hours. On the same road. Beside a repeating pattern of corn and soybeans.
It’s really a reflection on what it means to be part of anything, both by birth and by choice, something universal, but told with a strong Dutch-American “accent.”