Winter fog

Real fog out there this morning, which I’m watching as I continue to revise (I don’t do anything else anymore, really. I’ll just be here revising this book until the end of time. Or the end of the week, anyway.) Watching it out the window I find myself remembering seeing a ghostly cairn just visible through the fog one night in Iceland’s West Fjords, and thinking about how welcome that cairn would have been if one was lost a thousand–or even a hundred–years ago. I saw some sheep moving through the fog that night, too, and they seemed strangely dignified for sheep, slow gray shadows crossing the road.

sarah_create has a post about Ísland’s Jólasveinar, or Yule lads, who visit for the thirteen days before Christmas. When I’d first heard of them, they were described to me as “thirteen Santas,” which really makes no sense at all–they’re more like mischief makers, only maybe with more of an edge than that implies. Their mother is pretty scary too, but I’m most interested in the cat who takes (eats?) children who don’t get new clothes for the holidays. (Don’t you think there’s a picture book in that? About the poor little kitty who can’t find anything to eat on Christmas eve? :-))

Here’s a list of the thirteen Yule lads. Tonights Yule lad is Giljagaur, stealer of froth from the milk.

And here’s a list that mentions some of the Yule lads who didn’t make it into the canonical thirteen, including strap-loosener, skirt-blower, and ice-breaker.

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