For many years, a trip to the Forest of Cansiglio in northern Italy had been high on my bucket list. I had long dreamed of visiting this vast, ancient woodland, with the main goal of photographing the red deer during their rutting season and capturing the forest’s quiet beauty through my lens. When we arrived in the early hours of the morning, the entire area was wrapped in dense mist. Every shape was softened, and the echoing bellows of stags sounded like an orchestra through the fog, their presence felt more than seen.
The landscape often resembled the scene in my photograph of the silver birches: delicate trunks rising from a pale sea of mist, their branches faintly outlined against the muted sky. In that ethereal light, even the simplest details, such as the faint outline of a fence, became subjects worthy of attention.
As the fog shifted and thinned, shafts of sunlight began to pierce through, illuminating the birches with a soft, golden glow. Photographing in such conditions was both a test of patience and a profound joy. Returning to the same group of trees once the mist had lifted, I was struck by how stark and transformed they appeared; it was almost impossible to believe they were the same trees. The Forest of Cansiglio, veiled in mist and mystery, offered me not only striking images but also a deep sense of connection to nature’s beauty and quiet soul. I used my tripod and a polarising filter to enhance the fragile yellow of the leaves.
