It snaked over the reservoir embankment right in front of me.
And frankly I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. It rose from the woods on my right, slid noiselessly through the bare trees and crept up the steep slope to reach the path not fifty metres ahead of me. Then, without a moments hesitation it slunk into the dark waters and evaporated from sight.
I can’t say I’ve ever seen mist behave in that manner before and was a bit put out that I only had my Pen F with a wide angle lens around my neck. And I was too awestruck to think of switching to video mode so the shot above is the best I could do. Still it does capture the moment for me, not that I’ll ever forget it.
This morning was full of surprises. Wild swimmers emerged from the lake and talked to me of defying the rules, a pair of great tits mobbed me for being to close to their chosen nest site, green woodpeckers yaffled out of the gloom and a robin almost mugged me for a morsel of mealworms.
All to the soundtrack of an imminent spring with nuthatches, chaffinches and thrushes regaling the land with their ebullient choruses.
On days like today it’s a pure joy to be out. The 8am light lingered with me right through to tea time.
I grabbed something like 50 shots, all handheld at tenuously slow shutter speeds and present them here as warm toned monochromes.
However they do look good in colour too, the blues of this particular dawn, entrancing though they were, do not want to be portrayed in the language of pixels. I cannot find enough softness in the RGB colour space to satisfy my sense of them.