A cold December afternoon seemed unlikely to offer much inspiration, but a walk into the hills proved otherwise…
On a cold December afternoon, we ventured into the hills for a brief walk. The light was fading, and I feared I had missed my chance to capture anything meaningful—but I was wrong.
Trudging through the misty forest, I doubted I would see much, let alone take any worthwhile shots. Still, I pressed on, admiring the eerie, quiet beauty along the way. I snapped a few photos, but the light was flat and uninspiring. It wasn’t until I reached the summit, rising above the mist, that the landscape transformed. A rush of excitement replaced the earlier gloom, and I began to shoot.
From the peak, I caught sight of a distant hill rising from the fog, like an island adrift in a sea of cloud. The trees framed the shot naturally, offering a subtle composition. Though I captured only fragments of this scene, the fog moved like a river through the valley, flowing between ridges and peaks.
As the sun set, its remnants cast rich colours across the sky, illuminating the clouds in shades both soft and vivid. I had arrived just in time to witness nature’s fleeting display. With my camera ready, I captured silhouetted trees and distant peaks against the glowing horizon. The winding road below allowed for further experimentation, with fog drifting across the landscape.
Walking back down the quiet road, I reflected on the moment. Rising above the clouds had shifted my perspective. The heavy gloom I had felt earlier, beneath the mist, seemed distant. Ted Simon, in his book Jupiter’s Travels, speaks to this sense of transformation:
“Somewhere ahead is a new road, a new day, and a new story to unfold. When the clouds part, what was hidden is revealed, and what seemed impossible becomes clear.”
This experience reminded me that by seeking higher ground—both physically and mentally—we often find clarity we didn’t know existed.