Summer solstice at 65 degrees Northern latitude. Twenty-three hours of daytime. It is a deception that wreaks pleasant confusion upon the senses. Time comes unmoored. It moves past us unobserved when light remains constant. Here we stay up until 2AM. Rookies. The rest of Iceland falls asleep while we toil away on our project like neurotic spiders.
Last night the sun set at 12:03 and has risen a scant 3 hours later. A five hour twilight reigns over the wee hours. Sheep gorge 24/7 in the crepuscular light. The schedules of birds and insects elide in a blurred cacophony. The city gains a youthful exuberance, soaking up solar power.
From here begins the long tilt into night
Those of us in the milder latitudes take our moderate but consistent darkness for granted. It is a predictable ally, a reprieve from labour.