Some mornings are just gorgeous. We woke up in Cornwall, in December 2018, to see the mist rolling over the hills and engulfing the trees in a soft white fog. I threw on my clothes and boots as my eyes were still struggling to open, grabbed my camera and walked out into the bracing winter air.
I love the trees in Cornwall. They are beautiful, twirling oak trees, which stand so tall and imposing against the skyline. I have taken many photos of these trees, in the summer sun and as they go green in spring, but I didn’t have any of them bare in winter. The misty morning was the perfect eerie backdrop to the skeletons of these majestic structures.
I ran around the fields, catching the wispy trails as they wove themselves among the branches, bouncing the muted morning light through the air. It looked so magical and ethereal. The opaque background of the mist allowed the silhouettes of the trees to stand hard and striking in the foreground of my pictures.
I have photos of these trees from all the other seasons. I have pictures from the spring where the thick trunks are surrounded by tiny, fluffy lambs, from the summer as the sun set and from the autumn as the natural world was beginning to change, leaves crumpling and falling down. But I think these are my favourite.
The morning mist didn’t hang around for long. Even in December, the warmth of the day burned away the mist almost immediately. You’d only have seen it if you happened to be up around sunrise. You’d only have captured it if you happened to throw on a jumper, grab your camera, and run through the freezing morning air before the moment passed.