Lowlight, peat hags, water, cloud reflections.
The squall blew across the shallow peat hollow, lashing face and the feeble grasses alike; stinging blasts high on zest and power….
… until the louring clouds rumbled their malevolent way eastwards and a ray of sun caressed the land.
Beneath the scudding skies
I find the way through
the tangle of my senses.
Day two. The journey finding its own pace and direction while the wind gusted up, blowing clouds and ravens across the tops, buffeting the grasses against the peat.
It is astonishing how correspondances in images made within short periods of time only show up in retrospect. It is almost as if the spirit of the place guides one into a way of seeing, gently and unwittingly. This unity of shapes and reversal of tonality became apparent to me only once I started to review the group of images on screen. As usual, click the photo to see it large on black.