“That grand old poem called Winter”
– Henry David Thoreau
I think this image captures Thoreau’s meaning perfectly. There is something beautifully poetic about it, the thick fog turning the trees into ghostly shapes, the hard frost clinging to everything even the air and the lone bird defying the winter blues and providing a hint of life in the deathly wintry landscape.
So often the winter here is just grey and wet but every now and then nature provides some winter that is harsh and almost always that harshness brings with it a beauty that is breathtaking. Sometimes that is in the form of snow, sometimes crystal clear blue skies and bright winter sunshine and something a biting frost and morning fog that embraces the world in its grasp, absorbing sound and light and snatching the hot breath from your lungs as you walk through it. Capturing that in an image is tough but on this occasion I think I excelled myself.