This is a continuation of yesterday's post which was all about the sunrise.
After the light grew a little harsh, I decided to head across to a fog bank I could see on a neighbouring ridgeline - one which I knew was home to a large area of silver birch woodland.
The moors were frosted over, and the fog was heavy. I wish I'd stopped to photograph the grasses - they were covered in large dew drops which had frozen into bright white baubles. Foolishly, I let myself get fixated on the promise of the woodlands as I was worried the fog might lift if I delayed. Sadly, the baubles were the more transient of the two.
This lone sapling out on the moors grabbed my attention enough to get the camera out.
As soon as I came through the gate which separates the moors from the wooded area, a subject jumped out at me - the curving interaction between these two birch, with some soft and subtle light from the sun through the mist. The foreground rock made for a nice anchor at the bottom for balance.
Nigel Danson has recently tweeted about how the light can be best at the edge of the woods, and this sprang to mind as I explored this spot. In fact, it helped create a few compositions which I was quite taken with.
This was very similar to the one posted above, but a slightly different angle opened a path deeper into the trees. There's less interaction between subjects, but more enticing depth. I don't know which I pefer!
Eventually, the call to explore further overcame me. I also knew of a twisted oak a short distance away which I wanted to visit before the fog lifted, so I headed off.
Sadly, it didn't really suit the conditions as I needed to stand close to it (meaning the fog had little impact), and it was shaded from the soft light, so didn't quite have the character of the other scenes.
Nearby, I found a gate which passed back out onto the moorland. The fence line splits the woodland in two and it's striking how different the landscape is with the grazed, green gasses now giving way to heather moss and longer grasses.
The frost on the heather gave a pinky hue in the soft light, almost like the memory of its summer colours (but that's probably a little pretentious!)
I decided to explore this area further in the hopes of finding more of the grasses with the frosted baubles on. They were just starting to melt now, so I'd missed my chance, but caught a few in the foreground of this image.
I carried on exploring this area, but soon wished I'd thought to put my waterproof trousers on as my ankles quickly became soaked and cold.
Glancing behind me, I saw the sun softly glowing through the mist, and these mature trees silhouetted in the distance.
All this mist meant (obviously) that the air was heavy with moisture. I was working on another composition when I thought I should wipe the condensation off the camera. I accidentally knocked the tripod, and rotated the zoom. When I looked through the viewfinder, this was the scene the camera was seeing! Totally accidental, but with a few minor adjustments it became a favourite for me. Very muted and solemn compared to others I'd taken.
Eventually I found my way back to the greener woodland and spent some time looking for more compositions - I felt I'd pretty much reached my limit though, after two hours of wandering. Normally I find myself shooting until the conditions or light lose their appeal. However, the mist was showing no sign of lifting and I could have kept shooting. But, feeling quite drained (and hungry!) I felt it was better to leave rather than force myself beyond the point of enjoyment.
That said, one last scene caught my eye as I wandered back - it felt bright and hopeful (mainly the from the colour of the grass I think). It felt like a good scene to draw the outing to a close and I then made my way back to the car, soaking up the atmosphere (literally, in the case of my sodden ankles).
Going back to yesterday's sunrise post, I'd normally be over the moon with just one of these sets of conditions, so to come away with what was essentially two outings in one was very special indeed. I mentioned how it felt the odds were against me as I left home, but I'm so glad I pushed that little voice aside and carried on.
Many thanks for reading this far - or at least scrolling through to look at the images!
With best wishes for a Happy Christmas and a Joyful New Year.