Misty November Morning

This morning when I woke up and looked out the window I couldn't even see the barn across the courtyard, so heavy was the fog. But over the years I have learned to tell when this kind of morning will just stay dark and grey or whether it will slowly dissolve into something magical. And I knew I needed to be outside as soon as the light started to break. So I fed the animals and then wandered off with my camera, around the garden, down to the beach, across our fields. Every step offered a new opportunity for a beautiful photo. On mornings like these I always struggle with two contrasting impulses. One is to shoot everything I see because I desperately NEED to catch it, to freeze it, to hold it before it inevitably evaporates. The other is to stand completely still and just be there, breathe in and breathe out, feel the moisture in the fog attach itself to the tiny hairs on my hands, to my eyebrows and the hair on my head, to listen to the geese and the otherwise silent world around me, as the fog flows in and out of the layers in the landscape like an airborn river. Almost as if it has a life of its own...

When I got home to my phone and saw my friend and neighbour Maria post an image of the most incredible jellyfish I have ever seen on her Instagram stories, the kids (who were given an impromtpu day off from school) and I headed down to the beach to see the beast with our own eyes. I was seriously HUGE. Like at least 80cm across. I couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it at the same time as it made my skin crawl thinking what it would be like to encounter it in the water…

If you would like to learn more about how I create and capture my photos and get my free guide to my favourite flowers for a wild garden you can do so here!