A foggy dawn in Fulford Harbour.
It is the end of January and the days are already lengthening. As I drive Heather down to the 8am ferry in Fulford, for her regular day across the water of caring for a grandchild, it is early dawn and not still pitchy black as it was at Christmas. A foggy, grey dawn, but Spring cannot be far away. Already this morning, the snowdrops and aconites were flowering like bright stars on the dark earth as we walked down the garden path and out to the van. I take my camera along and stroll around the docks that are catching the first misty light of day.
On my way home up our winding and hilly country road I stop at two lakes to find more delicate moments as the mists rise. The calm waters reflect the clouds overhead and the overhanging leafless trees. I look for relationships among the elements of the landscape and hold my breath a moment as I click the shutter. It is a kind of communication I am feeling, something here that crosses from the landscape to myself without benefit of spoken language. This morning is all about relationship.
Back home again, I see the watery sun rising into a narrow gap between land and cloud. A brief moment of lemony light. I raise my hand high to acknowledge our relationship. “ I see you, yes I see you, coming from afar.”