Frozen idiot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were out again long before sunrise and again I hadn’t taken the camera. I had intended to… just in case… but trying to film the daft dog and the feather duster last night had eaten the battery and I had left it on charge. As the first hint of light hit the horizon you could see that the dawn would be amazing… but we were home as the first rays of sun hit the horizon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While Ani shook the stuffing out of a favourite toy I replaced the battery and made a coffee, sitting down to begin my day and attempt to get warm again. The light was golden, creeping through the curtains. The morning so cold I know the heating cannot remain unused for much longer and I was glad to be back inside, warming frozen fingers against the coffee cup. So, after the third glance at the light, it was inevitable that I abandon the coffee, grabbed the camera, and head back out, coat less and in slippers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are benefits to being an idiot though. Even a frozen one.The morning light changes so fast, a few seconds can make all the difference. An instant, once gone, is lost to eternity. Scrambling through the nettles into the stubble of the newly harvested field, though, it was worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I nearly missed the images; such was the beauty of the misty light. I simply stood and watched as the world turned to gold. A familiar, keening cry drew my eyes skyward, flicking the switch just too slow to capture the low flight of the red kite against the sun… only a distant silhouette against the soft fire, almost invisible through the lens. But that doesn’t matter. Some things need only be lived.