Nature will do it every time – fill me with a sense of awe that is jaw-dropping. And she did not disappoint as our helicopter rushed over the spare landscape toward Ittoqqortoormiit. In summer, the remote village in East Greenland hugs the rocky shore of Scoresbysund like a colorful belt cinched along the edge of the sea. The remainder of the year she rests like a jeweled crown on the headland of a frozen fjord like she did on this day in April, just six weeks ago.
At the end of my last post, I planned to continue our dog sled adventure beginning with an exploration of the village, but there is one of many first impressions that I forgot to mention.
Besides the marked contrast of crisp white against vivid blue, the freshness of an unsullied wind, and the inquisitive little ones that greeted us and took such joy in trying out their english on our small group, it was the sound of silence that struck me most. Not in a Simon and Garfunkel sort of way, but a living under a giant pair of invisible noise cancelling headphones way…
A wine connoisseur might describe it as crisp, yet soothing, with undertones of quietude. I’d say Continue reading
At age seven, when the only thing on my bucket-list was a red plastic beach pail, the Encyclopedia Britannica introduced me to a boy whose life was literally the polar opposite of mine. I was captivated from the moment I saw Moseesee displayed on a narrow metal rack sandwiched between a row of Cheerios and stacked Bumble Bee tuna cans at the 
Once I’d heard 
Ittoqqortoormiit is a long way from California – 4,007 miles as the crow flies. For the rest of us, 
may not leave you drooling in anticipation for the next course, a look at dinnertime in Ittoqqortoormiit, Greenland might foot the bill… 
I am honored to have been included in the latest 
Of all the things I expected to find in my tomato soup, this wasn’t one of them. A few seeds so small they’d slipped through the strainer unnoticed? Perhaps. A bit of chopped onion that had stuck to the pot and avoided being puréed by the processor’s whirring blade? That I could understand. A pinch of pepper flakes secretly snatched, sprinkled, and stirred into the mixture by some sly son-of-a-snicker-doodle when I turned to rinse my hands of a splash of garlic oil that stuck to my fingers was even a likely find. But this? No.
One homemade heart
Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 