Don Darling

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Don Darling Passionate about better Outcomes. Former Mayor of SJ, NB. Focused on making a difference Proud husband and father. Former mayor, facilitator, and business advisor.

Passionate about others, helping people achieve better personal and professional outcomes, and believe that we can design a more inclusive new normal.

Some places draw you in long before you reach them.I could see Harpa's vibrant colours from many blocks away. Without a ...
10/10/2026

Some places draw you in long before you reach them.

I could see Harpa's vibrant colours from many blocks away. Without a map, Patti helped us navigate back toward it, its lights acting like a beacon, like a lighthouse guiding a ship into harbour.

Opened in 2011, Reykjavík's concert hall has a glass façade inspired by Iceland's basalt formations. Standing in front of it, I was struck by how a building could feel so full of life. It was a dark night, but the light spilling out made it feel almost like daylight.

I love photographing scenes like this: the shapes, the colours, and the reflections in the water. Buildings, bridges and cityscapes have given me some of my favourite pictures.

Even now, I could stare at this one for hours, zooming in and out, discovering another detail and wondering about the music, people and stories inside this inspiring space.

A photograph brings you back. Sometimes, it also helps you see what you missed while you were there.

"Iconic white house." That's what the map called it, and it appeared on the must-see lists for Arnarstapi Harbour in Ice...
10/10/2026

"Iconic white house." That's what the map called it, and it appeared on the must-see lists for Arnarstapi Harbour in Iceland. So, of course, I had to see it.

But what makes a house iconic?

We stood across from it, looking down at the harbour, in wind so strong we could hardly stay on our feet. Even in winter coats, we could only stay outside a few minutes before retreating to the car.

Maybe "iconic" meant it had been photographed countless times. But looking at this little white house, I felt there was more to it.

We use that word pretty freely these days. For me, it brings to mind strength, light, stature, contribution, beauty. A beacon.

Looking at this photograph now, I wish I had lingered. Tried different angles. I wish I'd thought more about who might have lived there, the storms it must have weathered, and the warmth it has provided. It looks like it's standing guard over the harbour.

Some might see a simple house. I see something worth slowing down for.

If you ever visit, learn from my mistake. Grab a coffee, find somewhere sheltered to sit, and look for a while.

We have places that deserve that kind of attention here at home, too. This Saturday, I'm going for a drive to find one.

Sometimes the best part of a journey is giving yourself permission to stop.

Turn up your screen brightness for these ones. Can you believe there's a place with so many waterfalls you can't even re...
10/10/2026

Turn up your screen brightness for these ones.

Can you believe there's a place with so many waterfalls you can't even remember their names? In Iceland, they line the highways, spill down the skylines and appear in people's backyards. Everywhere you look, another gift.

For this one, we followed an unassuming dirt road off the highway for twenty or thirty minutes, then walked another ten. You turn the corner, work your way through the crowd, and there it is. A blue so rich it's hard to describe.

Okay… I remember the name: Brúarárfoss, commonly called Brúarfoss. Known as "Iceland's bluest waterfall," its name means "Bridge Falls," after a natural stone bridge that once crossed the river. A relatively small waterfall, but it leaves an impression.

I took 1,547 pictures during our trip. On quiet nights, I've been looking through them one by one, remembering the sounds, how it felt to stand there, and the memories Patti and I made.

These photographs will bring us back for years to come. I hope sharing them gives you a few moments of the joy we felt standing there. 💙

Some dogs leave paw prints on our hearts that never fade. ❤️🐾Those who get it, just get it.Gus was a special boy. ❤️Toni...
10/09/2026

Some dogs leave paw prints on our hearts that never fade. ❤️🐾

Those who get it, just get it.

Gus was a special boy. ❤️

Tonight, looking through old photographs, I came across this one. And just like that, I was transported back to the exact moment.

Gus was just a baby. We had spent the weekend in St. Andrews and were driving home when I spotted this beautiful field of brilliant fall colours.

I can still vividly picture his little legs running through the red plants, his leash dragging behind him, just in case. So small, so curious, and so full of joy.

I scooped him up, and Patti snapped this picture.

First Taz, then Gus, and now Kona. Three beautiful souls who have filled our lives with unconditional love, laughter, and eventually, heartbreak.

That’s the thing about loving a dog. We know our time together will never be long enough, but we give them our whole hearts anyway.

And something beautiful happens with time. The sadness slowly gives way to gratitude, the tears turn into smiles, and the memories bring us joy again.

The love never leaves. It just finds a different place to live.

It’s why I love photography. A picture can take us back to a moment we can never relive, but will never forget.

Tonight, this photograph didn’t remind me of losing Gus. It reminded me how lucky we were to have him.

Miss you, buddy. Thanks for making me smile tonight. ❤️

If you’ve ever loved and lost a dog, you know. They may only be with us for part of our lives, but we carry them in our hearts for all of it. 🐾

Driving through Iceland, the land kept giving us gifts. Waterfalls, mountains, big skies—and these beautiful horses.We s...
10/04/2026

Driving through Iceland, the land kept giving us gifts. Waterfalls, mountains, big skies—and these beautiful horses.

We saw them often along the highway, but this time I couldn't resist pulling over. They moved toward the fence, and as I raised my camera, they stood strong and still, staring straight at me.

I wondered what they were thinking. Were they as curious about us as we were about them?

One thing I keep reflecting on is the power of nature in Iceland, and the relationship between the land and the horses and sheep that graze across it. Watching them, it felt as though the land both nourished them and tested them. Something was moving about seeing them together, facing the wind and whatever else the day brought.

That relationship also carries a deep connection to community. Each autumn, beginning in September, farmers, families and neighbours come together for réttir, the traditional sheep roundups, and stóðréttir, the horse roundups. They gather animals from their summer grazing grounds into communal pens, sort them by owner, and bring them home ahead of winter. Generations working together, keeping a tradition alive.

I will cherish this photograph and so many others from our trip. When I look at it, I'm back beside that fence, camera in hand, feeling that moment of pure joy.

Do you have a photograph that takes you right back to a moment like that? I'd love to see it and hear the story behind it.

Did you know Iceland is estimated to have more than 10,000 waterfalls? 🇮🇸As Patti and I drove down the highway, we kept ...
10/01/2026

Did you know Iceland is estimated to have more than 10,000 waterfalls? 🇮🇸

As Patti and I drove down the highway, we kept passing homes with waterfalls cascading down the cliffs behind them. Never before in our travels have we seen so many beautiful settings, one after another.

It got me thinking: did someone choose to build their homestead there because of that remarkable view, or was there a more practical reason?

Likely, practicality played a big role. Land suitable for farming and access to fresh water would have mattered enormously. Where streams tumble down the mountains onto the farmland below, beauty meets function.

Still, day after day, we found ourselves saying the same thing: imagine having that in your backyard.

This was one of those scenes. For someone, it's home. For us, it was another reason to slow down, take a picture, and appreciate just how extraordinary an ordinary day can look in Iceland.

If you could choose your everyday view, would it be a waterfall like this, the ocean, mountains, or something else? Tell me what your dream backyard would look like.

As I continue sharing reflections from our time in Iceland, I wanted to share something I've been thinking about for a l...
09/30/2026

As I continue sharing reflections from our time in Iceland, I wanted to share something I've been thinking about for a long time.

Most of us, including me, share the best parts of our lives. The beautiful pictures, the good days, the experiences we want to remember. I understand why. But life isn't always roses.

I believe in the power of positivity. I also believe, perhaps even more strongly, that vulnerability and authenticity are strengths. Sharing the messy stuff has value, too.

Planning a trip often starts innocently enough. You search "the top 20 places to see," and build your adventure from there. But somewhere between the algorithms, sponsored content and endless recommendations, it can feel like we're all being directed to the same places, chasing the same picture.

We felt that in Iceland. Some of those stops were incredibly beautiful, but they were also overwhelmed with people. Phones up, cameras out, everyone trying to capture their moment. Me included. At times, the crowds and chaos made it difficult to slow down and enjoy what we had travelled so far to see.

The picture I'm sharing is quite nice. With a different angle, the right lens and a little patience, I could make it look as though we had the place to ourselves. But outside that frame was a very different experience.

Both were real. The beauty and the chaos.

I think that's true well beyond travel. A photograph or a social feed rarely tells the whole story. Behind the moments we share are frustrations, uncertainty and challenges that never make it into the picture. Those parts of life connect us, too, if we're willing to talk about them.

Patti and I loved Iceland. We came home grateful, with memories we'll carry for a lifetime. But it wasn't all roses, and I wanted to be honest.

Life is wonderfully ugly sometimes. I've always believed in leaving a little more of that in the frame.

I don't want today to pass with an orange shirt and a few words on social media, and then move on.I have more to learn, ...
09/30/2026

I don't want today to pass with an orange shirt and a few words on social media, and then move on.

I have more to learn, and some of that learning will be uncomfortable. But being willing to sit with that discomfort, listen, and question what we thought we knew is part of our responsibility.

If you're wondering where to start, read a Survivor's story. Attend an event in your community. Support an Indigenous artist or business. And when you hear someone dismiss the pain or repeat a harmful stereotype, speak up.

We can't change what happened. We can choose how we respond, what we teach our children, and whether our actions match our words.

That's something I'm thinking about today, and something I want to carry into tomorrow. 🧡

We're back home from Iceland, and two things are clear: the memories will last a lifetime, and Patti and I are grateful ...
09/29/2026

We're back home from Iceland, and two things are clear: the memories will last a lifetime, and Patti and I are grateful for the experience.

I've shared a lot about the beauty we found around every corner. But one part of Iceland stayed with me differently: the horses.

Before we went, I thought they were wild. They aren't, though you can see why I believed it. We saw them grazing in open fields, beside the roads and high on the mountainsides, looking completely at home in that rugged landscape. Their thick coats and long manes seemed made for the wind. Strong is the word that kept coming to mind.

The first few days, we passed them without a chance to stop. Then, while exploring the Snæfellsnes Peninsula, we found ourselves pulling over again and again. Kilometre after kilometre, these beautiful animals stood in the fields, almost as if they were keeping watch over the land.

I later learned that horses came to Iceland with its early settlers more than a thousand years ago. For generations, they helped people travel, carry supplies and work the farms. They're known for their sure footing and a wonderfully smooth gait called the tölt.

All week, Patti and I talked about how the land provides for the horses and sheep, and how the horses grazing farther out are brought closer to farms as the seasons change. They can't talk, of course, but I felt they communicated anyway, through their eyes, their sounds and the quiet strength of their presence.

Each time we drove away, I'd look back. They'd watch us for a moment, their manes blowing in the wind, then go on with their day. I still wonder what they made of two Canadians who kept stopping to admire them.

If you ever get to Iceland, I think the horses will stay with you long after you've come home. They certainly will with us. Of all the things we brought back, I'll carry that image of them standing in the wind forever.

Another moment from our Iceland adventure that I'm still trying to put into words.Patti and I stood on the shore of Jöku...
09/27/2026

Another moment from our Iceland adventure that I'm still trying to put into words.

Patti and I stood on the shore of Jökulsárlón Glacier Lagoon, watching ice break away from Breiðamerkurjökull, an outlet of the vast Vatnajökull ice cap. Some of the ice in those floating giants may be 800 to 1,000 years old. It's hard to comprehend that kind of time, let alone the glacier's scale in front of you.

The icebergs drift slowly across the lagoon and beneath the bridge toward the sea. There, the waves meet them with force. Pieces wash back onto the black sand, and when the sunlight catches them, they shine like diamonds.

I climbed carefully down some large rocks toward the cold water to take this photo. I wanted a clear view of the ice and a quiet moment away from the busy shore. Standing there, I wondered whether a picture could ever capture what it felt like to see it.

A few days ago, I wrote about loving the "in between" parts of this journey. It saddened me to watch people jump out of their cars, film a TikTok, and move on to the next location. Everyone experiences Iceland differently, but I wanted to stay a while and take it in.

Ifyou'ree planning a visit, know that the most popular stops can be so crowded that enjoying the place in front of you becomes a real challenge. Give yourself time for the quieter stretches in between. For us, that's where so much of the magic was.

This was our first time in Iceland, and we learned so much. We saw nature's beauty, and we felt its power when the wind reminded us to take its warnings seriously. Watching ancient ice lose its immense shape, travel toward the ocean, and become a small, shining piece you could hold in your hand made me think about life's cycle.

We all have a beginning and an end. What matters to me is how we shine in the days between.

If you're thinking about visiting Iceland, please reach out. I'd be happy to share what we learned along the way.

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