I found myself one day for a weekend in one of the Netherlands’ national parks: Dwingelderveld. It became a strenuous weekend, walking around with most of my gear. And I had a lot to do. I went to watch dogs herding a flock of sheep from the stables. I joined a group of mycologists and they showed me wonders right under my feet. One foggy morning, I worked with spiders in their wetted webs, as well as with cattle in the morning mist. I visited some places with wartime history and one of the world’s first large radio telescopes (1956)—sunbeams through the woods and expansive landscapes with heathland.

With the fair weather, I was specifically looking for wetlands and reflections. Dwingelderveld is the largest wet heathland of Western Europe. But that didn’t necessarily mean there was water everywhere. It had been dry for quite some time and only the ever-present ponds were still filled. This also created great opportunities to see the many waterbirds. A special moment was when a flock of cranes flew very close over me. Of course, at that moment I was on my knees with a macro lens. No cranes on camera…

I found this pond with some geese floating on the other side. I decided to put my folding chair behind some reeds and waited to see if the geese would come closer. Although some other birds got close, I never got the group of geese over their first warning of seeing me. But as the sun set and the golden hour approached, I became more interested in the colours of the area that were rapidly changing. The birches, with their autumn leaves still on the trees, looked as if they were emitting light. The ripple-free water reflected the golden glow. When a small cloud also joined the composition, I almost forgot to press the shutter. For me, it was a perfect moment of ‘reflection’, and as I stayed until just after sunset, I immensely enjoyed my selfish solitude in this national park.