As I set up my camera, I hear the very recognisable sound of a cuckoo. I work quickly to capture a few multiple exposure images before I lose the mist. This is only the second time that I have seen mist on the loch. There is a bright blue sky with dappled white clouds reflected in the loch. The surface is like a mill pond, another rare occurrence. I want to capture the sharp edges of the reeds and the crisp reflections, and also give a clear sense of the receding reed bed and the mist that is swirling over it. The colours are muted because the sun hasn’t risen over the hills around the loch. As I take my images, the shepherdess checks and tends to the expectant ewes on the hillside where I often work. I only take a few shots before the mist disappears and the sun rises sufficient to light up the reeds.
The loch is lit up in an instant and the colours become vivid and vibrant. The stems of the reeds become strong and rigid in front of my eyes and the reflections too.
I continue with the close up work trying the capture the Being of the reeds. Since I last visited the loch the tender stems of early spring have been replaced by thick and vigorous growth. I am absorbed in my work as a couple of Reed Warblers startle me out of the zone.
And finally, a couple of intentional camera movement images to round off my practice.
The images I have taken this morning are very valuable as part of my final collections. It is not often there is mist over the surface of the loch, nor that the water is as still as it is today. I have captured a rare moment in the Being of the loch. . .