Cherry trees in the mist

The story behind the photo

There was ground mist over the meadow at first light, and the sun came up directly behind one of the two cherry trees, so the blossom glowed from behind instead of being lit from the front. That backlight is the whole picture: it turns the pink into something closer to light than to colour.

A flooded strip at the foot of the meadow gave me a mirror, and I framed so that the reflection fills the whole lower half. The waterline sits exactly across the middle, which is precisely what one is told to avoid; here, following that rule would have meant choosing between the trees and their double, and the image needs both.

I stopped down to hold the sun as a small star in the branches rather than a blown-out white hole. The mist does the rest: it softens the far trees into grey silhouettes and separates the cherry trees from everything behind them, without a single adjustment afterwards.

The blossom here lasts about a week. I went out every morning of it, and this was the only day the mist and the angle of the sun agreed with each other. Most of what I do is turning up again and again and waiting to be lucky.