You’ll never see the same sky.

Isn’t it incredible that no matter how often you watch the sun set and rise, you’ll never see the same sky twice? That no tree, no flower, no meadow will ever look exactly the same as it did the season, or even the day, before?

This used to fill my heart with dread and anxiety, especially as a photographer. Beautiful seasonal moments arrive and shift and fade so quickly, it can be a challenge to keep up. But do I even need to?

Reminiscing on some of my most magical and otherworldly moments I have experienced in the natural world, they all do have one thing in common: fortuity. Through some mystical happenstance I stumbled into breathtakingly beautiful nature scenarios and stood frozen in time in misty meadows, mossy forests, on windy hills and mountain lakes, in awe of mother earth’s capabilities. All without any of my own doing. I might not have been able to capture every moment perfectly, or at all, but their memories live on, growing like vines around my heart and keeping it anchored.

Two weeks ago, I woke up drowsily and saw the mist creeping in through the trees, covering the entire garden and house in a thick white blanket. I was exhausted and in a lot of pain that day, yet something urged me to put on my winter coat over my pj’s, and head out with my camera. Living on a giant wooded slope, I made my way up and up and up to the top of the garden. There an old moss covered gate lead me into a large meadow on the top of the hill we live on. Covered in vibrant wildflowers in the spring and summer, it’s now dappled with dried up flower remnants, honey and amber colored stalks sticking up like lifelines in the mist. Deer bellowing in the distance and an excited dog at my side, the view was limited to a few meters around me.

After capturing some spiderwebs glittering in the morning dew, suddenly the fog shifted around me. A few minutes later the treeline was once again visible. I stood there wonderstruck as the mist swirled around me, retreating to and pooling in the nearby valley.

the mist pooling in the valley

After a while I remembered to breathe again and took a few photos. My stomach rumbled and I made my way back to the garden gate with a hearty breakfast on my mind when I noticed the fog swirling around my feet again. It was spreading back out from the valley. I have stood in many foggy forests and observed the mist building up and dissolving around mountains but I have never experienced it this close. Like some bewitched fog machine magic trick it crept back towards the meadow, covering the grassland and me once more. This spectacle went on and on, the mist retreating and spreading out around me again, and still utterly mesmerized I was unable to walk away. The gloom swallowing me didn’t feel ominous but comforting, like a soft and timeworn quilt, muffling my worries. Whenever it retreated it whirled around the forest on the other side of the valley and I wondered if the critters and deer over there felt the shift the way I did.

I placed the camera on a hunting perch and decided to take some photos of myself in the mist. Tousled hair, pj’s and all. I don’t enjoy being in front of the camera but I love that I now have a visual reminder of that day. My joy deserves to be captured too.

So, in case you need the reminder as much as I did: yes, life is fleeting, fast, hard and wondrously beautiful. Time won’t stop but the beauty you have yet to discover is most likely endless. Take that walk when you can, capture it (in your heart or with your camera- it doesn’t matter), marvel at the rising sun, the return of the light, spring blossoms, the spark of goodness and most importantly: nature’s your resilience.

Love,

Alex