Landscape photography is a funny business. I can spend a lot of time planning my photography but will often return empty handed (or later delete everything) from these well planned trips. Sometimes it takes years for the right conditions to be able to create the image I have in my mind, or something worthwhile even if it's not what I originally planned. Other images just seem to unexpectedly come out of nowhere and are created with relative ease. This was one of the latter images.
This row of polar trees is on the edge of the village recreational ground in the village where I live and is a memorial for eight villagers who lost their lives in an air crash in the Swiss Alps in 1973. A total of 108 people lost their lives in the tragedy, most of them women from towns and villages in Somerset on a trip to Switzerland. I'm guessing these trees were planted soon after the disaster which means I have known them for more than half of their life (and looked out at them almost every day for the last 19 years) yet, inexplicably I have never photographed them.
On Saturday I looked out of my window and saw beautiful misty morning sunlight shining through the trees. It was one of those moments that was going to be over long before I could grab my camera and run out of the door so I just enjoyed the moment while it lasted. It gave me an idea for an image and so I set my alarm for 6am the next day and hoped there would be more mist. The weather obliged and this was the result.
