Misty

Just before lunch, I walked up the hill in gentle drizzle. The views were misty, with softly layered outlines of hills and trees receding into invisible distance. At the top, the gate into the meadow was open, so I walked in, following the edge of the woods rather than continuing up the lane to the stile at the other side of the field. Consequently, I looked closely at a group of ancient trees I have often photographed from a distance. They have wonderfully sculpted, hollowed trunks and tangled, mossy roots. I wasn't optimistic about the low light photos I was taking, but thought how I'd love to try to do a more careful, longer-term photographic study of them. We'll see - they are in easy reach, I often walk up there in all kinds of light, so it need not be unmanageably time-consuming. I crossed to the opposite edge of the meadow, where the hill slopes steeply down to the next valley, to admire the muted colours of the view, lightened by areas of soft gold catkins, though I've finally decided I prefer the mono photos. I've struggled to choose, which is a good problem to have after what has felt like a barrel-scraping week, and I tried not to feel cheated when the sun burned through the mist just as I returned home.