Lately I realised how long it has been since I last picked up my camera just for myself. Work and different responsibilities kept pulling me in other directions, and photography slowly slipped to the background. I missed that feeling of wandering with a camera, without a plan, without any pressure to create something specific. So I decided to take a short walk in the forest near my home and treat it almost like a small meditation — just me, my partner, the cold air, and the camera.
Winter has already arrived here, even if it’s still undecided. One day we get a thin layer of snow, and the next day it melts away completely. But the temperatures stay around 0°C, so the forest feels cold and crisp. Walking there is a mix of discomfort and charm: your fingers freeze quickly, but the stillness of the season makes everything feel more peaceful. The trees look different in this kind of light — a bit dull, a bit quiet, but also very honest and raw.
I didn’t go out searching for perfect scenes. I simply walked, paused when something caught my attention, and tried to enjoy the process. It felt good not to rush. Sometimes I forget how nice it is to let the camera be part of the moment instead of a tool for a specific job or assignment.
In the evenings lately, we’ve been getting fog, especially near the forest paths. It appears suddenly and makes the whole place feel softer and more mysterious. I tried to capture a bit of that atmosphere, even though fog is always tricky — it changes every few seconds, and what looks magical to the eye can disappear before I press the shutter. Still, I managed to catch a few frames that reflect that mood.
This little walk reminded me why I started photographing in the first place. Not for deadlines or perfection, but for the simple act of noticing things — light, air, textures, small changes in nature. Even a short, cold walk can feel grounding when you let yourself slow down.
Below I’m sharing some of the photos from that day.
